


Underneath It All

by ashtraythief



Series: Underneath 'verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - FBI, Dubious Morality, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Undercover, Violence, now with announcement about edits and sequels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 82,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles was always good at acting, pretending. So good in fact that he is the FBI’s favorite undercover guy. He has more undercover operations under his belt than he’d like to remember, and after his latest stint with a ring of human traffickers he really thinks he deserves a break.<br/>Unfortunately there’s a new criminal organization on the rise, and all attempts to infiltrate and take down the Padalecki family have failed so far. Which is why Jensen finds himself faced with a new assignment, one that no other agent qualifies for and that he really doesn’t want. Because trying to seduce the most powerful man in the Chicago underworld? Not really high up on his list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) over on livejournal.
> 
> Notes and information at the [Masterpost](http://ashtraythief.livejournal.com/39605.html).
> 
> This story is entirely fictional and does not reflect crime, law enforcement, or the city of Chicago and the situation in it in any way.
> 
>    
> Please don't repost this story to other sites like wattpad. As the author, it is my decision where I host my stories.  
> Please also don't share this story or any of my works on third-party websites like Goodreads or Booklikes, who I believe are places for published works, not fanfiction.  
>  
> 
> The wonderful art imbedded in the fic is done by the incredibly talented [Ibrahil](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibrahil/pseuds/Ibrahil). Thanks again, for picking my story!
> 
>  **ETA 17/12/2017**  
>  As announced, I have posted an edited version. There are some changes, mainly the names of the family members and a bit more background on character development. The tory has grown by about 8k. For more detailed ramblings, I explained why and how in the last comment tacked onto this story.
> 
> I’m still not one hundred percent happy with it, but I’ve been working on editing this for over a year now (I checked, I created the edit documents last October, oh my fucking god) and I will keep changing things as long as I look at this, so I will just cut myself off now. But every since I made the decision to rewrite and worked a bit more intensely on it, my muse decided to stop her strike on this verse and I’ve written a combined 20k for outtakes, Jared’s origin story, Jensen’s vacation, and a follow up where someone gets shot. I still need to finish/polish them but starting next year, you’ll get more or less regular updates to this verse until I hopefully get to tackle something bigger in summer (rl kinda hangs in the balance for me concerning job and where I’ll live next year but! I have hope for this verse.) So, I really hope you guys will like the new version. It looks a little different now, but it’s still the same story. (*tries not to bite nails anxiously*)  
> Thank you for everyone who stuck with this story, it means a lot. Every kudos and every comment on this story was part of the reason why I didn’t give up on this. To any new readers: Hi, welcome, nice to meet you. 
> 
> I could not have done any of this without the help of amazing people: Tangy and keep_waking_up, handholders, plotters and alpha-readers who told me the hard facts when I needed to hear them. Ilikaicalie was the most amazing, diligent beta who read this whole verse, probably twice, so flowers and chocolates and all the thank yous to you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
**Chapter One**

 

 

Jensen was abruptly pulled from unconsciousness. Disoriented, he screwed his eyes shut against the bright sunlight filtering in through the windows. Waking up on an unfamiliar couch, it took him a moment before he remembered.

 

The bust had finally gone down—three teams simultaneously moving in at the docks, the warehouse, and the bar. Dimitri’s stunned and outraged face when he’d realized that Jensen was the mole. That Jensen was the one who took his operation down. And the satisfaction as Jensen raised his gun and shot the fucker before he could fire a single bullet. Self-defense.

 

After that, the endless debriefings, the shoulder clapping, and then finally leaving Miami behind. He’d gone back to Texas, to relax and recharge his batteries, spend some time with friends and family. He was just in time for his sister’s birthday too.

 

The unfamiliar surroundings in which he currently found himself were the living room of Chris’ new apartment, where he’d crashed last night after getting shitfaced with him and Steve. And the reason he was waking up far too fucking early? His ringtone, too close and too loud to his ear.

 

Jensen groaned and reached for his phone. “This better be good.”

 

There was a moment of silence before a voice carefully asked, “Special Agent Ackles?”

 

Well, fuck. Jensen moved himself into an upright position, cursing silently when his head started to pound.

 

“Speaking.”

 

“This is Special Agent Hartley. I’m calling from the Dallas office. We’d like you to come in for a meeting this afternoon.”

 

Jensen couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“Does this have anything to do with Miami?” he asked.

 

“Um, I don’t know anything about Miami, but—”

 

“Then no.” He had no intention of going back to work before he absolutely had to. He was fucking tired.

 

“Special Agent Ackles, we really need you to meet with us. It’s—”

 

“It’s Sunday.”

 

“Yes, I know, but—”

 

“And I’m on vacation.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware—”

 

“Screw that. I’m actually on leave.”

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“No buts,” Jensen ground out. “I’m on leave. Talk to my supervisor. I have two more weeks before I have to go back to work and I have no intention of setting foot into any government building before that. So go call someone else. And have a good day!”

 

Jensen ended the call and let himself fall back on the couch. Hanging up probably wasn’t such a good idea, but after months of pretending to be someone else 24/7, always doing what he had to do to keep up appearances, he was really enjoying doing what he wanted for a change. So he was a crabby bastard in the mornings. Sue him.

 

It was always like this after an operation. He needed time to decompress. And the one week since he’d come back from Miami certainly hadn’t been enough.

 

His head was still pounding and his mouth tasted like dead skunk, but he really couldn’t be bothered to get up. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  
  


 

When he woke up again, the sun had traveled enough not to shine in his face anymore. The pounding in his head had receded from jackhammer to distant knocking, but his mouth still tasted like something had died in it and his shirt was covered in beer stains.

 

Slowly, he got to his feet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Jensen really wasn’t a morning person and he gave in to the luxury of stumbling half asleep through the apartment, no need to give a hundred percent from the moment of opening his eyes. He shuffled to the bathroom and right into the shower. Chris’ new shower was amazing and Jensen spent at least ten minutes just letting the warm water slide over him, washing away not only the grime from last night, but also the tension in his shoulders. For the first time in months he just felt good, with no worries gnawing at the back of his mind, and he planned to take full advantage of it.

 

He washed his hair that he’d shorn off almost completely for the operation. It had nearly grown back to its regular length, though he’d decided to keep the sides a little shorter than usual but Jensen actually liked that. And that was something Jensen looked forward to—looking into the mirror and seeing himself.

 

He let his soapy hand run down his upper body and wrapped it around his dick, slowly stroking it to hardness, just enjoying the smooth glide and the tingling at the base of his spine.

 

It wasn’t that he had been completely celibate, but portraying a gay drug supplier was really not a good idea when trying to infiltrate the Russian mob. With the constant pressure of staying in character and never letting his guard down, jerking off had been more about stress relief than pleasure. But now he could take his time. Now he could slowly slide down, twist on the upstroke and just enjoy the ride. He would need to get laid at some point, but so far he hadn’t been in the mood to go cruising for a hookup. Maybe tonight.

  
  


 

When he came out of the bathroom, Steve was making pancakes and Chris was fiddling with the coffee machine. He poured a cup and held it out to Jensen. The coffee was hot and strong, just how Jensen liked it. When he sat down at the table, Steve put a plate of blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon in front of him. Jensen fucking loved his friends.

 

“So, you feeling better?”

 

Jensen knew that Steve wasn’t really asking about his hangover.

 

Jensen couldn’t give his friends the details. Besides the fact that he’d spent the last months somewhere sunny—which they could see from his tan—he couldn’t and didn’t want to tell them anything. The constant rehashing at the debriefings, recounting the facts over and over again, going over the pictures of the girls at least four times, trying to give every too-thin, beaten face a name... Jensen just wanted to forget. Chris and Steve knew and understood. They always had.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

 

And he was, now. Getting back his freedom and hanging out with Chris and Steve had that effect.

 

He’d been friends with them since freshman year in college. Chris had been his first roommate, and out of the confines and pressure of his family home, Jensen had finally been able to explore a side of him he’d mostly kept under wraps. Jensen wasn’t a virgin when he went to college, but his experiences had been limited and kept secret until he got his acceptance letter to UT. It wasn’t that his parents would throw him out, but they didn’t understand. Moving to Austin opened up a whole new world.

 

Chris’ chill disposition and Jensen’s adventure-seeking nature had balanced each other perfectly. They’d moved off campus in their second year, after Chris started a band with Steve. They’d partied and studied together—more studying for Jensen because he still had goals, more partying for Chris and Steve because they had very different goals. They’d spent breaks together, jammed together, and pulled the occasional crazy stunt when Jensen needed to blow off steam. Jensen had graduated in the top three percent of his class; Chris and Steve had managed with decent grades. After school, they’d gone their separate ways. While Chris and Steve had hit the road with their band, Jensen had joined the FBI. His parents had always assumed he’d join the police, carrying on the legacy of the Ackles men but after four liberating years at college, Jensen knew the Dallas PD wouldn’t be enough. Jensen wanted the world, or at least as big a bite of it as he could get. He’d worked in the FBI’s field office in New York for three years until Beaver recruited him for the undercover division in DC.

 

Even though he’d joined the FBI and moved to the east coast, Jensen had stayed in touch with Chris and Steve. It was easy. They only saw each other every few months, but they’d spent enough time together in college to manage the whole long-distance friendship. Coming back from an operation and partying with Chris and Steve was like falling back into his carefree college days. It was a good feeling.

 

Just as Jensen was about to cut into his second pancake, his phone, still in the living room, rang again. Shit. He had just about forgotten the call from Agent Whatshisname and he had the sinking feeling that this was the follow up.

 

When he got up to answer his phone, he saw Steve and Chris exchanging concerned looks. Huh. When he was in the field his acting was Oscar-worthy, but with his friends he couldn’t tell a lie to save his life, let alone hide a simple mood change.

 

“Ackles.”

 

“I hear you're not cooperating with the Dallas office.”

 

Fuck. They _had_ called his supervisor. Of course they had. And now his supervisor was calling him. Great. Jensen sat down on the couch, fully prepared to get chewed out by Jim Beaver, his boss, leader of the specialized undercover division in Washington D.C., and all around grumpy old shit.

 

“Well, I’m on leave. And he called before ten.”

 

Jensen’s aversion to early mornings was a well-known fact in their small office. Some people said that he wasn’t even human before his first cup of coffee. Jensen tended to agree.

 

“Ah, well, sorry about that, Mister Fussypants. I forgot to tell him that you can’t adhere to normal social behavior if you’re not properly caffeinated. God only knows how you survive your assignments.” Beaver let out an exasperated sigh. “Now, get some more coffee in you, get dressed, and get your ass to Dallas. Jeff Morgan from the Chicago office just flew down there to meet you. He asked for my best and I told him that’s you. Don’t make me eat my words, Ackles. And before you say anything about leave and time off and what not, you should realize that I wouldn’t have given him your name if I thought there was another option.”

 

Jensen snorted. His life sucked.

 

“Look, son, this operation... it’s going to be difficult.” Beaver’s voice had changed from gruff to cautious.

 

“Aren’t they all?”

 

“Yeah, well, this one’s... different. And lemme tell you, I’m not happy with the way Jeff wants to run this, not at all, but he doesn’t think there’s another way.” Beaver let out a heavy sigh. “They’ve tried. Four civilian assets and three agents. All failed. Most of ‘em are dead.”

 

“What?” It happened, agents dying out in the field, but that was an alarming number of casualties for one case. “Great,” Jensen said, trying to cover up his unease. “Now I won’t even be able to use the new dental plan.”

 

Beaver snorted. “Just get your ass to Dallas.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

Jensen sighed again. He had really hoped he’d be home for his sister’s birthday this year. She’d been so excited when he showed up at home a week ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


When Jensen arrived at the Dallas Office, he was greeted by an agent who was standard FBI office issue—from his dark dress shoes to his neatly trimmed haircut—who introduced himself as Special Agent Hartley. He was the one who had called Jensen in the early morning and he was really sorry about the early hour, but he had his orders—Jensen held up his hand.

 

“Whatever. Just show me where we’re meeting.”

 

Hartley clearly wasn’t impressed with Jensen’s attitude. After eying him up and down, he seemed to disapprove of his attire too—boots, ripped jeans, an old Zeppelin t-shirt and dark aviators—but Jensen was technically still on leave, so Hartley could just suck it.

 

He followed Hartley into the building, past the elevators and down a hall to a small conference room. Two people in suits were sitting at the table, neither one of which Jensen knew.

 

The man with the dark hair and salt and pepper beard stood up and offered Jensen his hand. He looked to be in his forties and his handshake was firm and dry.

 

“I’m Jeff Morgan, head of the Chicago office. You must be Special Agent Ackles.” He ran his eyes up and down Jensen’s body before settling on his face. “Well, I have to say you’re everything Jim promised you to be.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“And this is Special Agent Alona Tal,” Morgan introduced the young blond woman still sitting at the table, ignoring Jensen’s question. “IT genius and walking encyclopedia on the Padalecki Clan.”

 

Special Agent Tal eyed him up and down, just like Morgan had. “Hi. You will do very nicely.”

 

“What?” Jensen knew he wasn’t very articulate right now, but he had the feeling he was missing something very important, like the actual reason the head of the Chicago office had come to Dallas to talk to him.

 

“Didn’t Jim fill you in?” Morgan looked a little uncomfortable at the possibility.

 

“No. He just told me to get to Dallas, that he recommended me to you and that he didn’t like it. And wait, Padalecki Clan?” Jensen narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “That’s your urgent op? Aren’t they a bit small-time for a top priority?”

 

“Unfortunately not anymore,” Morgan said grimly. “But why don’t you have a seat and Agent Tal will fill you in. Hartley, close the door.”

 

Special Agent Tal waited for Hartley to close the door and sit down before she brought up the picture of a handsome young man on the screen. He had long, shiny brown hair coming down past his ears, strong features, and slightly slanted eyes. It was a portrait shot, cutting off just below the chest, but Jensen could see how well his broad shoulders filled out the dark suit he was wearing. Overall, he still looked more like a college kid than a dangerous criminal, but there was something about him. He was a guy who would definitely turn Jensen’s head in a bar.

 

“Meet Jared Padalecki, new head of the Padalecki family and the man currently running the Chicago underworld. He’s your next assignment,” Tal said.

 

Jensen didn’t make the college kid comment. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

 

“You said you thought the Padaleckis are small fish. What do you know about them, anyway?” Tal looked at him expectantly.

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “Not that much. There was some talk in Miami that the two big families in Chicago finally went to war and the Padaleckis sided with the winner. The Russians didn’t talk about it much though; there isn’t really a lot of love between them and the Polish.”

 

“Yes, well, you’re only half right,” Tal said. “There was a war, but the Padaleckis didn’t side with the winner, they won. Before the war they were only running a section of the arms trade in Chicago, but now they, well Padalecki, really, controls everything. We think that he actually played both families against each other. The Padaleckis seemingly sided with the Irish and after they wiped out most of the Italian elite, they blew the whole Irish clan up during celebrations. They made it look like it was the Italians, who they then gunned down in the middle of the street for ‘revenge’. After that there wasn’t much opposition when they claimed sovereignty. They still only actively run guns, but every other organization gives them some kind of cut. And if Padalecki doesn’t like how someone runs their business, they disappear. Even the gangs don’t challenge him but we think his involvement with them is minimal. Best we know is he facilitates contacts between them and suppliers and gets a cut.”

 

Jensen was impressed. A little bit. From a purely professional standpoint. “I didn’t think it was that easy to initiate a mob war. The old families are usually more careful.”

 

“Yes, but that was before Jared Padalecki came to Chicago.”

 

Jensen studied the picture while the room was silent. “Alright, tell me about this wunderkind, then.”

 

“Wunderkind is a pretty apt description actually, though they mostly call him the boy king,” Tal explained. “Jared Tristan Padalecki, twenty-seven, is the second son of Gerald Padalecki, former small-time weapons dealer in Chicago. The family has been in the city since the Prohibition, but they didn’t have any real standing until Gerald started to expand his business about seven years ago. Jared never had any run-ins with the law, as opposed to his older brother, Jeff, who was groomed early on to work with his father. Now, when Jared was finished with high school, he applied and was accepted to several universities but he went to Stanford, probably because they offered him a full ride. Organized Crime at the time thought he wanted to distance himself from his family.”

 

Jensen raised his eyebrows. A mobster who attended Stanford?

 

“He has an impeccable record, a GPA of 3.9 and he received a Bachelor’s degree in Economics,” Tal continued. “All the time he spent in Palo Alto, he was never even on the radar of the local police. But coincidently the smuggling activities during that time around the Bay Area increased significantly. As far as we know it was mostly rare high-end goods, like art, archeological artifacts, and endangered animals.”

 

Jensen looked at Special Agent Tal. “Animals?”

 

“Yes. Mostly rare birds and tigers.”

 

“So that’s the money he used to build his business?”

 

Tal shook her head. “Not as far as we can tell. He started his IT company back in Stanford as a student business with a friend, and we couldn’t find anything irregular in their early financials.”

 

“So where did the money go?” Jensen asked. “Extravagant lifestyle? Bribes?”

 

“No idea,” Tal said. “Padalecki lived relatively modestly in Stanford. Inconspicuously, you might say. And we’re not even sure how much he made but the SFPD suspects seven figures, at least.”

 

“Now, Padalecki was never on their list of suspects for the smuggling,” Morgan cut in, “especially since there was nothing unusual going on with the weapons trade, but they never caught anyone higher than a middleman and they either didn’t know anything or they wouldn’t talk. At all.” Morgan had leaned forward while talking. He was now staring intently at Jensen. “I don’t have to explain to you what that means.”

 

Jensen just nodded. If _everybody_  refused to talk, then they were working for one scary son of a bitch. And if half the people didn’t even know who they worked for, he was very good at what he did.

 

“There was one witness who could have identified a person in charge, but she disappeared the next day. Washed up at the shore two days later.” Tal looked grim. “Padalecki got back from Stanford about half a year after graduating. He brought five, maybe six people back with him and the mayhem started. It’s been almost five years since then and he’s running a tight ship. He’s got his finger in every deal that goes down in the city but he’s never directly involved so we can’t fucking touch him.” Tal was glaring at the screen with a level of anger that made Jensen suspect this was personal.

 

“He moved his IT company to Chicago too and expanded it, and he’s been rubbing elbows with politicians and lobbyists,” Tal continued with a tight expression. “His father and brother run guns, but as far as we can tell, Jared’s the one who’s running the city. And if we want to get him, we have to get him now. There are rumors he wants to set up a second base in San Francisco and we can’t let that happen. Once the mob expands the business to San Francisco, we’ll never get them out again. A direct supply line from the Pacific to Chicago, run by the same family, is frankly a terrifying idea. With Padalecki's brains and his ruthlessness, his options are practically unlimited.”

 

“Alright, I see the urgency.” Jensen leaned back in his seat. “What I don’t understand is why it has to be me. The Bureau has enough qualified people, you don’t need to cut my leave short and put a tired agent on this.”

 

Morgan and Tal exchanged a tense glance. Neither of them seemed to want to tell him what was truly going on.

 

In the end it was Tal who huffed out a breath and changed the screen. It now showed the pictures of about two dozen men. They were all in their twenties, more or less blond and pretty. Very pretty.

 

Oh. It made sense now.

 

There weren’t that many openly gay agents with the FBI, despite the nonexistence of don’t-ask-don’t-tell, and even less who were fit for deep cover work. And if they wanted one who was blond (more or less) and pretty (Jensen preferred to call himself attractive, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard the term directed at him before), the pickings were slim.

 

He studied the pictures a little longer, before turning to Morgan. “Was this your idea? Because it won’t work.”

 

Hartley spoke for the first time, a snide tone to his voice. “What, you don’t think you’re pretty enough?”

 

Jensen snorted. “I’m attractive enough, thanks, but I’m a little too old for him. He likes them young and cute. Non-threatening.” Jensen gave Hartley a hard look.

 

This time it was Tal who answered. “That may be true. But we don’t want you to be his flavor of the week. We want you to become his lover. His boyfriend. His confidant.”

 

Boyfriend. Jensen had hooked up with criminals on his assignments before but he’d never gone in with the intent to seduce someone. That was new. Something hot churned in Jensen’s stomach and he couldn’t decide if it was anticipation or revulsion. But he didn’t have time to analyse it further because Tal changed the picture of the screen again. A young, good-looking, blond guy with strong features appeared.

 

”Meet Chris Evans, Padalecki's only known boyfriend. They dated for almost a year in Stanford, before Evans moved to New York. He’s intelligent, strong, confident, and doesn’t mind breaking the law. That sound like anybody you know?”

 

“I don't break the law,” Jensen said irritatedly. He had the sinking feeling they’d already decided on a cover for him and he didn't like it. Jensen did his own research and tailored his cover to fit the assignment.  Especially if he was supposed to whore himself out for the FBI. The hot ball in his stomach uncoiled slowly, threads of anticipation spreading through his body which always came with the promise of danger.

 

“No, but one of your old cover identities does,” Tal said.

 

Another picture filled the screen, this time one that Jensen recognized. It was a surveillance picture of him taken five years earlier, during his second deep cover op.

 

Tal turned to him with a sly grin. “You remember Jensen Campbell?”

 

“It’s perfect,” Morgan was chiming in again. “Every new person we introduce to him is going to raise suspicions. But if we use your old identity, he’s going to meet someone who has been in the game for years. He’s actually going to be able to check up on you and find people who knew you five years ago. And you’re a criminal, so you’ll have no moral objections to dating a mob boss. It’s an airtight setup, really.”

 

“But Jensen Campbell hasn’t been active in years. Not since he disappeared five years ago after the bust in Boston,” Jensen argued, because really? Boyfriend of a mobster? He pushed the anticipation down because this would be more than dangerous. This would be a high-wire act without a safety net.

 

“He fled the country,” Tal said so matter-of-factly as if it was common knowledge. “Laid low for a while before doing some work in Europe. We actually slipped Interpol a tip that Jensen Campbell was involved in a string of unsolved museum heists. Since your cover was never blown, he’s now an official suspect in the Interpol database.”

 

Tal had the satisfied expression of a cat who just ate the canary. Jensen still wasn’t convinced.

 

“Even if it might work, Padalecki is never going to be interested if I approach him in a club or somewhere else. He’d never buy it.”

 

“Why not?” Morgan asked.

 

“Because even if Jensen Campbell would have no ‘moral objections’ about dating a mob boss, he would never seek out the company of one,” Jensen explained, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Art thieves and the mob don’t mix. Art thieves see themselves as something better than common criminals. And they usually avoid people who have a very low threshold when it comes to killing other people.”

 

Morgan looked at him thoughtfully. “So how would you make the approach?”

 

Jensen pondered the different possibilities for a while. Theoretically, this was an interesting challenge. “Well, it would have to be coincidental, but not random. And I can’t seem interested in him; he has to be the one to do the chasing.” Padalecki looked like a guy who went after what he wanted. And he was smart, taking risks to climb the ladder that quickly. Accomplishing what he had at his age, he was most likely driven, egotistical, and power hungry. He’d value the victory more the harder he had to work for it. But he was also careful, securing his position with a legal business, so he’d be suspicious to the last.

 

Jensen spun options in his mind, thinking out loud. “I need to show him that I’m really a criminal and not a snitch, without making a point about it. I need to show him that I’m not scared of him, but also not looking for mob company. I need to be reluctant, but not really have a choice about giving him a chance. He needs to have the edge but I still need to be able to to hold my own.”

 

Morgan still looked pensive. “Sounds good, but how are you gonna do that?”

 

Jensen drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. It was crazy. It was basically signing his own death warrant. It was high risk, but if it worked... he was almost certainly in. He couldn’t help but feel the anticipation oscillating deep in his body.

 

“I need to steal something from him and get caught.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


“What? Are you completely out of your mind? He’s going to kill you the minute he gets his hands on you.” Hartley was almost shouting, looking incredulous.

 

Morgan looked skeptical, but Tal was beaming.

 

“Oh, my god, that’s brilliant!” Her fingers were already flying over her keyboard. “There’s this one guy, Fredric Lehne, I don’t know why I didn’t think of him sooner. He’s a rival of Padalecki’s legitimate business, the IT company, you know. And he hates Padalecki with a passion, but he has no mob ties himself, so he loses against Padalecki every time. And last month, Padalecki outbid him at an art auction and completely humiliated him afterward in front of everybody. He’s dying to get back at him.”

 

She pulled up an article on screen with a black and white picture of two men facing off, one of them Padalecki, the other one an older guy in a suit. The headline read “Lehne a Sore Loser After Charity Auction.”

 

“Lehne really wanted that painting,” Tal continued. “So we just need to get you a connection and then he can hire you, or rather Jensen Campbell, to steal the painting from Padalecki. It’s perfect! You'll be reluctant, but you have to take the job for monetary reasons and when Padalecki figures out you stole the painting, it’ll be the perfect introduction.” Tal leaned back and pursed her lips. “Of course, there’s still the risk he’ll want to kill you, but I think your skills might be enough to persuade him to work with you instead. With all the info we have, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to play to his tastes. Look, I know you’re worried about your age but physically speaking, you’re exactly his type _and_ you’ll be a challenge. Few people challenge him in any way and if a charming thief comes along, daring to steal from him because of mysterious reasons from his past...” A small smile danced across her lips. “He’ll have no idea what hit him.”

 

“Whoa, hold your horses.” Jensen held up his hands. “That was just theoretical. I didn’t say I was gonna do it.”

 

Rationally Jensen knew he wasn’t getting out of this, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d used his body to get information, but it would be by far the most dangerous and, more importantly, permanent. While this assignment would be the most challenging he’d ever done, he was not interested in pretending to be someone’s personal play thing. The thrill of it was tantalizing, but Jensen had fought his whole life for autonomy over his own body; he couldn't just give it up now.

 

“You want me to act like Padalecki's personal whore,” Jensen said tightly. “How is that brilliant?”

 

“Not his whore, Ackles, his boyfriend,” Morgan corrected.

 

“Tomayto, tomahto. I’ll still have to sleep with the guy.”

 

“And you have a problem with that? Padalecki's good-looking enough I’d think and you people are so promiscuous anyway...” Hartley trailed off when Jensen turned a murderous gaze on him.

 

“Excuse you?” Jensen turned towards Hartley, barely able to contain the fury inside of him. “My people? Promiscuous? Are you implying that because I’m gay I don’t mind fucking a criminal as long as he’s good-looking?” At the end Jensen was almost shouting.

 

“Alright, that’s enough Hartley, you—”

 

Jensen cut Morgan off. “Yeah, that’s quite enough, Special Agent Hartley.” Venom was lacing Jensen's voice as he spoke in a normal volume again. “Because I’m really fed up with dealing with bigoted assholes like you. And if I ever see you outside of a government building, I won’t hesitate to kick your sorry ass six ways to Sunday.”

 

“Enough!” Morgan’s voice boomed through the small room. “Hartley, apologize. We’ll talk consequences after the meeting. For now, you’re dismissed. Ackles, keep your temper in check.”

 

“Yes Sir,” Jensen and Hartley answered simultaneously, albeit with different levels of belligerence in their voices.

 

Hartley stood and turned to Jensen. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Special Agent Ackles. It wasn’t my intention to insult you.”

 

Hartley’s voice was dripping with false sincerity and Jensen had to grind his teeth together and only nodded before he said something he might regret later. Or not.

 

After Hartley had left the room, Morgan turned to Jensen. “Sorry about that. Can we go on?”

 

Jensen nodded. “What’s his problem, anyway?”

 

“He wanted the undercover assignment for himself,” Tal said.

 

Morgan shot her a look but she just shrugged her shoulders. “What? It’s true. He’s been dying for a deep cover assignment. But since he’s not gay and definitely not pretty enough and all other ins failed... Well, Ackles, that means it’s your turn.”

 

Morgan sighed. “Look, Ackles, I know you don’t like this.”

 

Understatement of the century.

 

“And I don’t like it either. It’s not the way the bureau usually does this. Hell, Jim yelled at me for about fifteen minutes for even suggesting it. But there doesn’t seem to be another way.”

 

Jensen scoffed. “There’s always another way. If you just—”

 

Morgan shook his head. “Trust me, there’s not. Don’t you think we fucking tried?” Morgan leaned forward on the table, eyes glinting angrily. “We tried turning people close to him. But apart from the fact that no one in his inner circle talks, those we did get to talk, disappeared. We sent in two agents, one of them an experienced undercover agent and they both died. Even just seducing him didn’t work, the agent was out on his ass in under five seconds. Now, if we keep trying and failing, he’ll become so suspicious of new people, we’ll never get anyone in. So it has to work _now_.” Morgan gave Jensen a grim look. “Before Padalecki becomes truly untouchable.”

 

Morgan seemed genuinely sorry. That wouldn’t help Jensen though, when Padalecki ripped him into tiny pieces. He felt the strong urge to get drunk again.

 

“You can of course say no,” Morgan said quietly.

 

Jensen let out a harsh laugh. “After you basically told me the world will end if I don’t?”

 

Morgan didn’t answer that.

 

Jensen rubbed a hand across his face. “How long do I have?”

 

“It’s going to take a couple of days to get the contact with Lehne. Why don’t you set up in Chicago on Tuesday. Maybe let someone from your old days know that you’re back and willing to work?”

 

Jensen was glad for Tal's no-nonsense attitude. It would be good having her on his team.

 

“I don’t know where anybody is. I haven’t really kept in touch, you know.”

 

Tal was unfazed. “No problem. I’ll go through your old files and give you all the info you need. I’ll get you the file on the heists in Europe as well and everything we have on Padalecki. Now, unfortunately it isn’t much, because he plays it pretty close to the vest, but we managed to talk to a couple of his former flings.” She made a face. “And of course, we have a whole dossier on Misha Collins—”

 

“Wait, Misha Collins?” Could this get any worse?

 

“Yeah, you know him?”

 

Jensen pulled a grimace. “Not personally, but I know of his reputation.”

 

Tal nodded. “You see why we need to wrap this up. The people working with Padalecki... Let’s just say we can’t let them run wild anymore.”

 

Morgan stood up. “I created a special task force on Padalecki's operation over six months ago and to date we have zilch. What we need is a new approach. And that is you. Since Padalecki almost certainly has cops on his payroll, maybe even someone in the FBI, we’re keeping this one under wraps. The only people who know are Tal, Hartley, Jim, and me. I assume there still isn't any entry of you in the database as Special Agent Ackles?”

 

Jensen shook his head. To make his covers more secure in a time where every hacker and their mama seemed to be able to crack the FBI’s database, the members of the Undercover Division in DC only had a hard copy file. Not that this particular division existed officially in the first place.

 

“Good.” Morgan cleared his throat. “Then why don’t you go home, say goodbye to your family and get your things in order.”

 

Nobody commented on how much that sounded like Jensen was dead already.

 

“We’ll give you the files and then you can prepare. You won’t be able to wear a wire in his presence, so you’ll be on your own.”

 

"Can I bug the place at least?"

 

Morgan shook his head regretfully. "No, we tried. Padalecki has permanent bug screeners all over his place. Padalecki has a few places he likes to frequent; bars and restaurants. Maybe you can plant a few when you go out with him. It would be good to get ears on him there. But don’t worry, we’ll be watching. If it gets hairy, we’ll pull you out.”

 

Jensen gave Morgan a hard smirk. “If things get hairy, the only thing you’ll be able to do is bring me out in a bodybag.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jensen spent the rest of the day in his old room in his parents’ house, going over the files Alona had given him before he left. It wasn’t much, but he had started ops with less info.

 

Alona had handed him the stack, patted his arm and said, “I’m going to be your go-to person, so you can call me Alona. I’ll do everything I can to get you out of this in one piece, but if you screw this up, anything Padalecki will do to you will seem like child’s play compared to what I have in store, okay?” All the while smiling sweetly at him.

 

Jensen had just raised an incredulous eyebrow.

 

“One of the agents who died was very dear to me. I want Padalecki to pay.”

 

Jensen had nodded. Fraternizing with other agents was discouraged, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. “I’ll do my best, trust me.”

 

Alona had just patted his arm again. “I know. I also included the files of the assets and agents who didn’t make it. Maybe you can figure out their mistakes and learn from them.”

 

Jensen wanted to ask which one had been hers, but he kept his mouth shut.

 

Now he had two empties and one half-full beer bottle next to him and was going over the files. The ones about the former infiltration attempts were not very encouraging. The usual criminal informants feigned ignorance or straight out admitted they were much more scared of Padalecki than jail time, and chatter on the streets was almost non-existent when it came to Padalecki’s operation. There was plenty of info on the actual gangs and criminals doing the deeds but when it came to Padalecki’s involvement and his cut, people were incredibly tight lipped.

 

At first, the FBI had turned one of the bed bunnies of Padalecki's right-hand man. She overdosed on heroin three days later in her apartment, although she had no history with drugs. Then they had sent in an agent. He started as a small courier, working at the bottom of the food chain. When he pushed for bigger jobs after six weeks, he died in what appeared to be a drug deal gone bad.

 

After that, they had recruited the bartender in Padalecki's favorite club. He he lasted for three weeks, but probably only because Padalecki was out of town for one of them. They hadn’t found his body yet.

 

The attempt of an agent to seduce Padalecki in the club had failed immediately. He was thrown out of the club with the order to never come back again or he’d lose important parts of his anatomy. They weren’t sure what had gone wrong; he’d seemed to be Padalecki's type.

 

Then they tried to turn another girl close to Padalecki's entourage and a small-time weapons dealer. Both vanished after less than two weeks. They were suspected to be dead, because if they had told Padalecki about their FBI connection, he might have used them to feed the Feds false information.

 

The last agent they had sent in as a drug dealer from the East Coast had lasted four months, doing more illegal things than the FBI usually stomached and had then died in a bar brawl.

 

After that, the task force had leaned heavily on a few small time criminals in jail but they’d all taken the punishment or refused a shorter sentence instead of giving up any info on Padalecki. As far as the task force knew, Padalecki didn’t run a prison crew but it seemed at least two of the big ones did him favors.

 

The whole file made for a depressing read, although it wasn’t hard to see where the Bureau had gone wrong. They had moved too fast. But that was what happened when you sent regular agents in for longer undercover assignments. If someone had to go under deep cover? They needed to be thoroughly trained for it and have the right mindset. And, of course, the patience.

 

Jensen skimmed the file on Collins only briefly; he knew the man’s reputation and what he was capable of. He didn’t need to see the gruesome pictures too. Collins had a background in explosives, but really, the guy was so crazy he dealt in everything that burned. He had worked mainly in L.A. before. The theory was that Jared Padalecki had brought Collins with him when he came back from California.

 

A pretty blond guy seemed to be Jared’s right hand man, but they had no match for his prints, no history and knew nothing about him, except that it said Chad Michael Murray on his driver’s license, a name with no match in any database. He had no social security number, no regular address and they’d never been able to charge him with anything. The only thing they knew for sure was that he liked to screw a new busty girl every night.

 

The other members of Padalecki’s entourage were standard criminal material, though definitely from the upper end of the scale. There were two women in the files and Jensen started with them. Emancipation had reached the criminal underworld some time ago but it was still very much a man’s game. Women who made it this far usually had to work twice as hard which made them twice as dangerous.

 

One of them was Genevieve Cortese. She was a Stanford graduate like Padalecki and handled the finances, from Padalecki's official company to the front businesses that laundered the dirty money. So far, all the books were squeaky clean, making her an accounting genius.

 

The other one was Danneel Harris, suspected to be Jared’s personal hit-woman. She was linked to over a dozen deaths, but without any proof. Jensen thought her face looked vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. He just hoped that wouldn’t blow up in his face later.

 

Aldis Hodge was Padalecki's personal hacker, actually employed in his legitimate company, but probably involved in the illegal business as well. Together with Padalecki, he’d founded their company, PadaSystems. He was very good, but not a hands-on guy. That was more Mike Rosenbaum’s forte. He had a long list of assault charges that had never made it to court and a reputation for being insane.

 

Jensen took a long drag of his bottle. Padalecki seemed to like the crazies. Good thing that Jensen Campbell had a reputation as an adventurous thief, who pulled off insane heists with impossibly clean exits.

 

He still remembered those times fondly: dangling upside down from a building while breaking into a window on the fifty-somethingth floor. The adrenaline rush was something else. Sometimes he really loved his job. Right now? Not so much.

 

When his mother called for dinner, Jensen was finished with the files. The reports on Padalecki's sexual conquests were the only ones left, but he had no desire to go through them before dinner. He dreaded what he could find in there. He considered himself a reasonably open guy, and he’d had his fair share of hook ups that involved no emotional attachment, but he’d never really done the whole relationship thing. There had been a few semi-regular hookups in college but no one had managed to hold his interest for long. Sex was something he could enjoy without a close connection and he didn’t mind experimenting, but whatever Padalecki liked doing in bed, he needed to believe that Jensen liked it too. While Padalecki ticked more than one of Jensen’s boxes looks-wise, Jensen wasn’t really into pain, humiliation, or any of the extreme stuff. And faking an orgasm wasn’t all that easy for a guy.

 

Jensen emptied his beer and made his way down to the dining room with heavy steps.

  
  


Dinner was a strained affair. Jensen’s mom wasn’t happy his vacation had been cut short and his sister Catherine was pissed that he was going to miss another one of her birthday parties after all. She was viciously hacking away at her roast beef, and it was a testament to how distraught his mother was that she didn’t scold Cat for her bad table manners.

 

Now seventeen, Cat had been a late surprise for Jensen’s parents. When their older brother Jonathan had left for college, she had clung to Jensen and he’d used his endless patience to play with her when both of their parents were at work. Now that Jensen visited home so infrequently, she was sulkier than ever. It didn’t help that she was an almost eighteen year-old teenager.

 

“So, Cathy, which poor boy does this piece of meat represent now?” Johnny asked playfully.

 

Johnny and his wife Tamara had also come over for dinner and they tried valiantly to keep the conversation going. Jensen had crashed two nights last week at his brother’s place and Johnny knew that Jensen didn’t have much of a choice in the matter of this assignment.

 

This time Johnny’s attempt to intervene didn’t work, because Cat just glared at him. “Well, his name starts with a J and ends with -ensen.”

 

“Cathy, that’s enough,” George said quietly. “Jensen’s job is important and the FBI can’t accommodate every family event.”

 

Jensen’s father understood most of all. He was a detective with the Dallas police, so he knew that when you were given an assignment, you hauled ass wherever they wanted you to go. But he couldn’t suppress a snide comment about the FBI, no matter how respectful he phrased it. George didn’t like the FBI interfering in his investigations and he didn’t like them interfering in Jensen’s personal life when it affected the rest of the family. Jensen had never really fit in with his straight-laced, conservative family and he had not wanted to follow his father’s legacy and join the police. While everyone else thought Jensen was just taking his family’s history of law enforcement to the next level, Jensen knew exactly what his father thought about The Feds and Jensen working for them.

  


“Hey, Cathy, have you seen that that cute second-hand store downtown is having a sale next week? We should go check it out,” Tamara said.

 

Cat grumbled something intelligible.

 

“Maybe you can pick out a birthday present?” Tamara pressed.

 

Cat smiled sweetly at her then. “Thanks Tamara, that sounds great. It’s really awesome when your family cares about your birthday so much.”

 

Jensen turned to Cat, ready to give her a piece of mind, when Johnny suddenly jumped into telling a long-winded story about one of his clients. Jensen hated what his job sometimes did to his family, and he needed to get out of the tense atmosphere of the house.

 

After dinner, he excused himself to head over to Chris’. He needed to imbibe large quantities of alcohol and whine about the unfairness of his life. Chris’ couch was perfect for that.

 

His mom was less than pleased, but he promised to spend time with her the day after, before he would get on a plane to a secret city, assume a confidential identity, and work on a covert assignment he could tell them nothing about. Hopefully, at some point, he would come home—alive and not in a coffin. Sometimes he wondered why he had wanted this job in the first place.

  
  


When he came home the next morning, he headed straight for the garden where his mom was tending to the roses.

 

“The lawn needs a mow,” he said.

 

His mom looked up and smiled at him. “Yes, it does.”

 

Jensen spent the rest of the day helping his mom with the garden, lunch, the groceries, and even baking. His mother kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly gossip about neighbors, friends, and their extended family. Occasionally, she’d tell Jensen about former classmates of his she’d met at the supermarket.

 

“Kevin is getting married this summer, did you know?” Jensen did not.

 

“And oh, Laura Stevens, who always gave you a ride to school, she’s pregnant with her second baby. Did you ever see her first one?” Jensen had not.

 

“Most of your class have settled down now, I think.” Jensen thought so too.

 

“I know that Texas is not the most open-minded place but it’s gotten a lot better. I’m sure you could find a nice young man to marry, if you only try.”

 

Jensen’s parents hadn’t been thrilled when he came out. Jensen’s father avoided the subject as best as he could—though he had once insinuated that maybe that was why Jensen had gone to join the FBI and their cushy desk jobs, not the police where he’d have to do more hands-on work. Jensen’s mom didn’t understand either but she was pragmatic. After a few years, she’d finally accepted that this wasn’t just a phase and now she was hellbent on convincing Jensen that he could still have a nice—read traditional—life with another man. The dog, the kids, the white picket fence... according to his mom, he could still have it all. Nevermind if he wanted it.

 

“Mom.” Jensen was really tired of having this conversation and he didn’t try to keep his feelings out of his voice.

 

His mother raised her hands placatingly. “I know, I know. Your job is important, you don’t have time for a serious relationship. I just don’t want you to be lonely, okay?”

 

Jensen rolled his eyes. “You just want grandkids,” he said, which was a good way to deflect any more serious questions as his mom launched into a retelling of the last time she babysat the neighbor’s kids and how she hoped Johnny and Tamara wouldn’t wait much longer now.

 

When the muffins were in the oven, his mother sat him down and he knew he couldn’t evade the conversation anymore.

 

“I know you can’t tell me where you’re going or what you’re going to do, but what I don’t understand and really want to know...” she trailed off.

 

Jensen took her hand. “What, Mom?” he asked gently. Being the wife and mother of law enforcement officers wasn’t easy.

 

“Why you can’t have any time off! Everybody needs a break once in a while and I can see how tired you are, sweetie!”

 

Jensen sighed. “This one can’t wait, Mom.”

 

“Then why you?” Her eyes were pleading with him and Jensen thought he had underestimated the toll his job was taking on his family.

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It sorta has to be me. I’m, uh, uniquely qualified for the job.”

 

His mom nodded and took his hands back in hers. His hands looked too big in hers, making hers look smaller and more frail. “Just come back to us, okay?”

 

A tear was sliding down her cheek. Jensen tried to swallow around the lump in his throat that felt suspiciously like guilt. He wasn’t home as often as he should be. Despite everything, his parents loved him. “You know I will. I always do, right?”

 

“Right.” She gave him a watery smile when suddenly the oven timer beeped. “Oh my gosh, the muffins!”

  


Jensen helped his mom clean up the table after another tense meal and then joined his father in front of the television for the baseball game. They drank a beer in the companionable silence they had worked hard to establish after Jensen left for college in Austin. Jensen had stayed in Texas, like his parents wanted—they’d argued with in-state tuition, which Jensen had never really bought as the main reason—but gone to the one school in the one city Jensen’s father thought was a liberal haven. “Instead of just walking away, you stay and piss right in front of everyone,” his brother had commented. Jensen had argued that  UT had the superior program. Which was true, but his brother also had a point.

 

After the first two innings, Jensen grabbed a new bottle and went up to Cat’s room. Her door was ajar and when he went in he found her curled up in her bed watching an old episode of ER.

 

“Oh, is that the one where Mark has the tumor?”

 

Cat looked up. “Duh!” was the only answer he got.

 

He walked over to the bed. “Awesome. Scoot over, Munchkin.” He plopped himself down on Cat’s bed, grabbed a pillow and got comfortable.

 

Cat gave him the stink eye. “I’m way too old for the Munchkin thing, _Jennybean_.”

 

“Ouch. That hurt so much. Do we have snacks?”

 

A yellow bag of M&M’s slapped against his chest.

 

“Peanut! My favorite.” God, they tasted good. He should have candy more often.

 

”Duh,” Cat said again. “I know.”

 

The last bit sounded so small and sad it pulled at Jensen’s heart.

 

“I’m sorry I’m not gonna be there for your party. But it will be great and lots of fun and no one will have to be scared that your bad-ass FBI brother is gonna bust them for underage drinking.”

 

Cat snorted. “Whatever. You know I wouldn’t care about any of that, right?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied.

 

They didn’t speak for a while, watching instead as Mark said goodbye to Elizabeth before his surgery, until Cat spoke again, eyes trained on the screen. “I get that you need to go after the bad guys and save people, but sometimes—sometimes we need you too. _I_ need you too. I need my big brother. And you’re never home anymore.”

 

Jensen reached out his hand and stroked Cat’s hair. “I know you think you need me, but not really. Not like you used to. You’re growing up, Cat, and despite all the teenage drama, you’re growing into this amazing, smart, strong, beautiful woman. You don’t need a big brother anymore.”

 

“Yeah, well, but I want one!” she pouted.

 

“Oh, now you’re just being a brat on purpose, Cat,” Jensen teased.

 

“You know, you’re the only one who still calls me that,” Cat said.

 

Jensen shot her an inquiring look. She went by Cathy with their parents and their brother but her friends used to call her Cat too.

 

She waved him off. “When I went to high school I started going by Catie and it just stuck.”

 

“Do you want them to call you Cat?” Jensen asked.

 

“No. It’s nice to have a brother who calls me his own special nickname.”

 

Cat looked at him, her eyes impossibly big, so Jensen opened his arms and Cat leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

 

“That’s never going to change, no matter how often I come home, okay?”

 

She nodded against his shoulder. It had been a while since he had held her like that. The last time she had lain in his arms, they had watched _Tom and Jerry_ and her favorite get-up was pigtails and jean overalls. He couldn’t help but notice the differences. His little baby sister was not so little anymore.

 

“Make no mistake though,” Jensen said, aiming for mock-stern and not sure how well he managed the mocking part of it, “if a boy comes sniffing around you, I will know and I will scare the ever-loving shit out of him. I know you’re smart and you wouldn't start something with some asshole but as your big brother it’s my duty to scare any guy who goes after you.”

 

He heard the smile in Cat’s voice when she answered. “With your gun?”

 

“With my gun.”

 

She pulled back to look at him and there was a small smile on her face. “Promise?”

 

“I promise,” Jensen smiled back at her. “Munchkin.”

 

For a moment Cat squeezed him tight, then she rearranged herself so that she was leaning against his shoulder but could see the TV as well. On screen a father and his son were now being treated in the ER.

 

“You know, he’s kinda cute,” Cat remarked.

 

“Yeah, we’re not talking about cute guys.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Cause you’re still my little Munchkin.”

 

Cat was quiet for a few seconds and then asked, “Can I have a sip of your beer?”.

 

“Shut up and watch the cute guy.”

  
  


After Cat had fallen asleep, Jensen said goodnight to his parents and went up to his room and the dreaded sex files.

 

He studied them carefully and all in all it wasn’t too bad. He could probably do with a little less dominance and control, but at least Padalecki didn’t hurt his lovers or smack them around. He did throw them out after, or left them immediately. He never did repeat performances and outside of the actual sex, he behaved like an asshole. Well, at least he was good-looking. Jensen could admit to himself that Padalecki’s height, broad shoulders, and long hair would help with the whole mob boss sex under duress thing.

 

Apart from that, Padalecki appeared as a genuinely nice guy in public: he donated to charities and loved his dogs. Maybe Jensen could take advantage of that knowledge.

 

He emptied his beer and went to bed, but it was a long time before sleep came.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Jensen arrived in Chicago on a beautiful summer day. It was early June, and the weather was already warm enough for short-sleeved shirts. He was tired after his twenty hour trip, but if someone checked the flight records or the airport cameras, they would see that Jensen had flown in from Atlanta, not Dallas.

 

He took a cab to the address Alona had given him and was extremely pleased to see that she had found him a place that was exactly what he was looking for.

 

Jensen Campbell was the most thorough and—in his opinion—best cover he’d ever constructed. He’d taken extreme caution to fit the last five years in Europe and his motivation for coming back to the US into it.

 

The first apartment Alona had wanted to set him up in had been a bust, but after he’d told her exactly what he needed she had worked a miracle. The place was technically a dump, but it was in a nice neighborhood, so he could pretend to live the high life while spending as little money as possible. Since Jensen had decided that the only sensible incentive to rob Padalecki was money trouble, he would play it right from the start.

 

Word on the street about him being back in the US was out; the only thing he needed to do now was find a nice spot and wait. Morgan had assured him that Lehne was finally fed up with Padalecki always getting the better of him. All Jensen had to do was meet Williams, the fixer Lehne has reached out to.

 

Jensen walked down two blocks on the route that Williams took everyday and there it was. A cute little coffee shop with semi-dark corners, seven different kind of sprinkles, and blueberry muffins. Perfect.

  
  


Jensen was pretending to be deeply immersed in the tale of Kvothe and his hunt for the Chandrians when he heard a voice call his name. “Jensen? Oh sweet baby Jesus, it is you. What are you doing back in the good ole U.S. of A.?”

 

Jensen looked up to see Steven Williams standing at his table. “Stevie, my man. Good to see you too.”

 

He stood to shake Williams’ hand. He was a fixer of the old caliber and the guy who would get Jensen the job for Lehne. He’d aged since the last time Jensen had seen him, hairline receding farther back and the thin strip of beard over his chin already white, a stark contrast to his dark skin. His eyes were still looking sharp though, fixed intently on Jensen.

 

“Just got back into town, actually. No place like home, you know,” Jensen said with an easy smile.

 

“I didn’t know you were from Chicago,” Williams said, fishing for information like always.

 

“Well, I’m not. I meant the country in general.” Jensen grinned openly. “Europe’s nice and all, but you can't get a decent cheeseburger over there to save your life.”

 

Jensen winked and let Williams interpret that however he liked. His mind obviously jumped to a dirty conclusion, because he gave Jensen a lewd grin. Then again, Jensen Campbell had always put an innuendo into everything.

 

“Mind if I sit?” Williams asked.

 

“Not at all. Always good to see a familiar face. So, how long have you been in the Windy City?”

 

“Oh, a couple of months. I needed a change of scenery.”

 

Jensen nodded in understanding.

 

“What brings you here? Work?” Williams asked.

 

“Yeah, sort of.” At Williams’ raised eyebrow, Jensen elaborated. “I was hired for a job, but when I got here the guy had already hired someone else do it. Bastard.” He let enough anger seep into his voice to sound more than a little pissed off.

 

“That’s too bad,” Williams said, scrutinizing Jensen casually. “So no money?”

 

“No money.” Jensen took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Well, you were always a resourceful kind of guy. I doubt your time in Europe has left you broke?”

 

Good. Williams was fishing for info on Jensen’s financial situation. Now, he couldn’t seem too desperate, but Williams needed to see that he was in dire need of a job. For this to work, he needed to offer Jensen the job; it wouldn’t do for Jensen to ask.

 

“Well no. I mean Europe, it’s beautiful. The old buildings, the museums...” Jensen trailed off suggestively and glanced at Williams. He was still waiting.

 

Jensen gave a reluctant sigh. “Unfortunately, I had to leave rather abruptly and all my... belongings are still there. And you know how it is with overseas shipping. It was difficult enough to get papers on such short notice, not to mention horridly expensive. So when I got back here and this guy offered me a good-paying job in the Windy City, I thought, why not? Never been here before and one city is as good as another. That was a bust, obviously.” Jensen gave a humorless laugh and stirred his coffee.

 

He watched Williams through his eyelashes and the fixer looked pensively over Jensen’s shoulder. “You know, I might have a job. If you want.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Mhmm. It’s right up your alley, actually. Van Gogh.”

 

“Ah, well I do love me a good Impressionist. The museum has several, which one are we talking about here?” Jensen grinned. “I always had a soft spot for _The Bedroom_.”

 

“Well, you would.” Williams chuckled. “This one’s in private possession, though. Listen, why don’t you come by tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

 

“Sure, why not,” and under his breath but loud enough for Williams to hear he muttered, “not like I have anything better to do.”

 

Williams clapped his hands and smiled. “Excellent. I have an Italian cook, you’re gonna love her.”

 

A waitress appeared at their table and asked for Williams’ order.

 

“Oh, I already ordered something at the counter, but why don’t you give my friend here another one of whatever frilly drinks he’s having.” He dropped a ten and a card on the table. “Come by for lunch, yeah? We’ll have lasagna.”

 

Jensen took the card and smiled at Williams. “Sure thing, Stevie. See you tomorrow.”

 

Williams smiled back and made his way over to the counter to pick up his order to go. Jensen would bet it included a blueberry muffin.

 

Jensen picked up the card when the waitress asked, “Frilly drink? You’re drinking black coffee, aren’t you?”

 

Jensen grimaced. “Yeah, but why don’t you get me a Grande non-fat white mocha, double pump vanilla, double-shot espresso with chocolate sprinkles now?

 

It was a shame Williams remembered that Jensen Campbell loved his coffee flamboyant, the more stuff in it the better. Jensen sighed and resigned himself to drinking every ingredient Starbucks had on its menu for the next couple of months. Might as well start now. With Padalecki, even the smallest mistake could cost him his life.

 

At least his taste in literature was the same as Jensen Campbell’s, so he could return to his book without apprehension. Drinking frilly, too-sweet drinks was one thing, but Jensen couldn't bring himself to read crappy books. Though he thought it was funny how he had more time to read when he was undercover than when he was doing desk duty. Somehow Jensen wasn’t smiling.

  
  


Steve Williams lived in an old townhouse with high ceilings and wide rooms. It was spacious and tastefully decorated.

 

“I see you’re doing well for yourself, Stevie. Nice place.”

 

“It is. But then you always appreciated the beautiful things in life. Speaking of beautiful, whatever happened to what’s his name? Marc? Max?”

 

“Matt. Feds got him.” Jensen shrugged his shoulders.

 

In his time in Boston one of the local thieves had lusted after him, but Jensen hadn’t let it go further than second base, because while the guy was nice and certainly cute, he was still a criminal and a target. Ironic, considering the situation he was in now.

 

“Right.” Williams raised his eyebrows. “You don’t seem particularly upset about it. I thought there was something going on between you two with the way he was running after you.”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders again. He needed to sell this exactly the right way in case Williams ever ran into Padalecki’s crew. Keeping up the nonchalant appearance, he chose his next words carefully.

 

“He was. And don’t get me wrong, Matt was a nice guy and a master when it came to forging Dutch paintings. I can tell you the way that boy handled a brush... But, you know, that was all he was. A nice boy with talented hands.” He gave Williams a crooked smile. “If I’m ever gonna let myself be caught, it’s going to be by a man who can offer a lot more.”

 

Jensen waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Williams laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “God, boy, I almost forgot how much fun you can be. C’mon, let’s eat some of that delicious lasagna and you can tell me all about your adventures in Europe!”

 

Jensen had spent a summer break during college backpacking through Europe. From his own experiences and from what he’d read in the files, he spun tale after tale about paintings, statues, and cute tourists. He was charming, funny, and a little bit over the top—exactly how Steve Williams would remember him from five years ago.

 

Over dessert—a delicious tiramisu—he turned the tables on Williams and the old fixer told him what he’d done the last five years. Jensen laughed at his jokes and was sufficiently appalled at the stupidity of some of the people Williams had worked with.

 

The stories could probably open up five cold cases alone. Maybe Jensen would pass on some of it to the White Collar Crime Division, but for now he just let himself enjoy Williams’ company. Jensen had always loved listening to his stories. After dessert they went into Williams’ study and Jensen admired all the little knick-knacks Williams had picked up over the years.

 

“So. The job. You still interested?” Williams eyed him with barely hidden interest.

 

“Sure. After the other guy left me high and dry... I could steal something myself and fence it after, but I’m lacking a little bit in the equipment department right now.”

 

Williams laughed. “I never thought that’d be a problem for you.”

 

Jensen just rolled his eyes and Williams’ expression turned sober. “Well, I won’t loan you money, you know I never do that, but I have a client who’s willing to pay fifty grand plus ten up front.”

 

“Sixty grand isn’t a lot for a Van Gogh.”

 

“It’s a pre-1886,” Williams said.

 

Paintings from pre-1886, before Van Gogh had developed his distinctive style, usually didn't go for as much money as his later pieces, but the standard going rate for an art heist was still ten percent. Even an early Van Gogh would garner more than six hundred thousand on the black market. Just because Jensen was supposed to be desperate, didn’t mean he couldn’t haggle over the money.

 

“It’s still not enough.” Jensen crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 

Williams’ face hardened. “It is for an unsellable one. The current owner bought it at a legitimate auction and since the guy belongs to the mob, no one else is going to touch it. You know as well as I do that the collector sets the price.”

 

Williams wasn’t wrong. Fencing a high profile theft painting was hard. But if he thought Jensen would gloss over the fact that this painting belonged to the mob he was sorely mistaken.

 

Jensen feigned outrage. “You want me to steal from the mob? Seriously?”

 

“Aw, come on Jensen, it isn’t like you haven’t stolen from powerful, dangerous people before. This is no different.”

 

That was true. There had been that Triad boss. Jensen eyed Williams with a speculating gaze. “One hundred.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. If I’m supposed to steal from the Chicago mob, I want one hundred grand.”

 

Williams shook his head, looking regretful. “Sorry, boy, but I can’t do that.”

 

“Well then get someone else to do it.” With that Jensen turned around and headed for the door. Jensen Campbell was known for temper tantrums and dramatic exits. He really loved this alias.

 

“Alright, wait. Jeez, boy, no need to take off like that. I’ll call the buyer and talk to him. I can probably get you eighty grand.”

 

Jensen turned around. In order to make this real, he needed to push now. Because eighty grand for stealing an unsellable painting? The target had to be one nasty son of a bitch. He knew that already, of course, but Williams didn’t know that.

 

“Really? You wouldn’t find someone else to do it?”

 

“No one as good as you are.”

 

“Oh, stop the flattery, Stevie. Besides, you don’t need the best to break into a private residence.”

 

“Yeah, you do if it’s Jared Padalecki.”

 

Jensen had thought long and hard about how he should react to Padalecki and how much Jensen Campbell, art thief extraordinaire and European resident for the last five years, would know about Jared Padalecki. He had decided to go with the aloof, all-mobsters-are-the-same-brutes routine. That didn’t mean he hadn’t asked around before coming to Chicago and was sufficiently wary of the guy.

 

He let the disbelief color his voice now. “Jared Padalecki? The Boy King of Chicago? Are you fucking insane? If he catches me, dying will be the least of my worries.”

 

“Maybe. Probably. But then again you are one of the best, so he won’t catch you.” Williams shot him a winning smile. “You’ll get the eighty grand, be out of here in no time and you’ll be one step closer to not having to worry about your debts anymore.”

 

Jensen paused in fake surprise. “What do you know about my debts?”

 

It had been a gamble. If Williams didn’t know about the money he owed his old crew runner, it might be hard to sell the desperation act. If he did know, it was easier to sell his story. But if Williams leaked his location to Heyerdahl, Jensen could be in some serious trouble. Heyerdahl’s arm reached far beyond his prison bars. Jensen could only hope that he would be safely in Padalecki's bed by then.

 

“Jensen, Jensen. I know everybody and everything about every heist that goes down from here to the Atlantic coast. And I know that during the bust in Boston five years ago, you disappeared with five hundred thousand dollars in cash. Which was quite impressive, by the way.”

 

That wasn’t exactly true—the FBI had confiscated the money and helped him ‘disappear’, but that wasn’t really something he could share with his criminal acquaintances.

 

“And since Heyerdahl will get released from jail in six weeks... You really didn’t pick a good time to come back.”

 

This time, Jensen’s shock was real. “Heyerdahl got eight years. He has three more left.”

 

“No, he don’t. Gets released early due to good behavior,” Williams explained with a smug smile. “If you ask me, he blackmailed the judge, but it doesn’t really make a difference for you now, does it?”

 

Jensen cursed. This could cause him serious problems. And why hadn’t Alona told him when she’d checked his old file? Shit.

 

“Now, don’t you worry about it. If you take this job, I’ll get you the eighty grand and your stay here will be our little secret, alright? And you’ll have some more time to get the money together. With your rep it should be doable. We have a deal?”

 

Jensen looked at Williams with a sour expression. He didn’t need to fake his anger.

 

“Alright.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


The heist went off without a hitch.

 

With the ten grand Jensen got via Williams, he was able to buy all the equipment he needed. The seller was an old acquaintance of one of Jensen’s former fences and it felt good to strengthen the credibility of his alias.

 

The painting, a beautiful view of a bridge, hung in Padalecki's legitimate office on the Near North Side with a corner view of the waterfront. Of-fucking-course.

 

Since the security in the building itself was way too tight for him to crack alone, and he couldn’t risk blowing his cover by getting outside help, he decided to do this crazy-Campbell style. He broke into a building across the street that had mostly offices with lax security. Getting inside through the backdoor was a joke and he could take the service elevator up to the top floor. Then it was just two more picked locks and he was standing on the roof of the building.

 

He took the crossbow lovingly out of the bag.

 

Jensen had always loved outdoor sports. Hiking with his parents had turned into mountain climbing with his brother when he was fifteen. His mountain bike had been traded for a dirt bike when he was sixteen. When he was seventeen, one of his friends from school had taken him skydiving with his father’s company. After college, he used his saved up money to accompany Chris and Steve on their first tour. Through a contact of Steve’s uncle, they’d had the opportunity to play in several clubs in New Zealand. Jensen went with them, sang back-up occasionally and fell in love with bungee jumping. So when he had started out his career as a thief under the name Jensen Campbell, the jumping and dangling from buildings part had been one of the easiest. It was actually one of the reasons why this was Jensen’s favorite alias. The adrenaline rush from a good break-in was unparalleled.

 

He aimed the crossbow and pulled the trigger. The modified arrow with the attached rope flew in a perfect arc across the street and buried itself in one of the air-conditioning vents. Bingo.

 

Jensen secured the other end of the rope to a structure on the roof, picked up his backpack and the trolley that would allow him to cross the street without burning his hands. He stepped up on the edge, felt the wind tugging on his clothes and grinned. Jensen gripped the trolley tight and leapt into the air.

 

The building he was on was higher than Padalecki's, which made for a fairly fast ride. He bumped his knees on the roof, let go and rolled over several times before coming to a stop. That could have gone smoother, but in his defense it had been five years since he’d done something like that. Jensen grimaced when he put his weight on his left leg. That would hurt tomorrow.

 

He detonated the small charge that was attached to the rope still swinging across the street. It exploded and the severed rope fell back against the building. If he had calculated right, the rope would exactly reach down to Padalecki’s office. Jensen smiled and rappelled down the building. Nights were still cool and the cold wind was tugging on his clothes and made his eyes tear up. The ground below him seemed miles away and Jensen felt elated. God, he’d really missed this.

 

With his new glass cutter, it was child’s play to get into Padalecki's office. There had been no way for him to fool the biometric lock on Padalecki's door or to acquire the daily changing access code, so he'd decided just not to use the door. He was resourceful that way.

 

The floor had weight sensors, so Jensen climbed from filing cabinet to filing cabinet, and took one final jump across the room to land gracefully on Padalecki's desk. At least there was no one there to say otherwise. Thankfully, the guy was a neat freak, so Jensen didn’t knock anything over during his landing.

 

The Van Gogh hung behind the desk, secured with a motion sensor attached to the hook. Jensen took out a can of dihydrogen monoxide and carefully sprayed the sensors with it. They wouldn’t register a thing now.

 

Slowly, he leaned forward and took the painting off the wall. He almost toppled over, but managed to steady himself on the office chair at the last moment. His left hand was gripping the backrest and his right was holding the painting. His back, shoulder and arm muscles were straining, a cramp was building up in his left calf, but Jensen didn’t dare move. If the additional weight on the chair had tripped the weight sensors in the floor...

 

Jensen was frozen for about five seconds before he dared to move again. Extremely carefully and slowly. When he sat back safely on the desk, he let out the breath he’d been holding. He really needed to get back on top of his game.

 

He quickly cut the painting out of the frame, rolled it up and put it in the container he had brought for it. As planned, it fit exactly into his backpack. He took out the print of another Van Gogh he had brought with him.

 

Jensen Campbell always left a print behind when he stole a painting, so people still had something pretty to look at. The one he’d chosen looked really good in Padalecki's slim golden frame. Jensen grinned and thought he might as well start with the flirting now.

 

He made his way back to the window after he’d hung up the frame now holding a print of Van Gogh’s _The Bedroom_.

 

The climb up to the roof wasn’t long, only eleven floors, but Jensen was tired, the muscles in his arms shaking. He needed to move quickly now, before the exhaustion that came after a big adrenaline rush set in. He made his way back to the arrow he had shot over.

 

He removed the arrow from the vent and shot it back onto the other roof. He was Jensen fucking Campbell. He didn’t leave any evidence behind.

 

When he had cleared the roof of all evidence of his presence (except for the dent in the vent, but that thing was old and banged up anyway), he moved to the other side of the building. The upside of his escape route was that it left absolutely no trace behind, adding to his reputation and the mystery surrounding him. The downside was that he was going to get wet.

 

He took the mini chute out of the backpack, made sure that everything was securely in place and took a running start. He jumped over the edge of the building and for a terrifying but exhilarating second he flailed in the air before he managed to adjust the chute and he was gliding down in the right direction. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he had the strong urge to _woohoo_ out loud. That might blow his cover though. He made it to the river in the greatest fifty seconds of the night and dropped in about twenty yards of the shore. The water was freezing, and Jensen quickly released the chute, so it could sink to the bottom of the river. Then he swam back to the shore as quickly as he could.

 

It didn’t take him long to find the spot where he could climb out of the water without being seen. He grabbed the bag he had stashed there before the heist, took out the dry clothes, changed into jeans, shirt and a baseball cap and looked like any other guy walking on the Lakefront Trail at one o’clock in the morning.

 

When Jensen had updated Morgan on the plan, Morgan had told him that he was crazy, that it was way too risky and that there were easier ways. Jensen had replied that Campbell was crazy, liked to take risks and that he needed to establish an impeccable rapport with Padalecki by pulling off the perfect heist. If it was too easy for Padalecki to track him down, he might get suspicious.

 

“You’re paranoid,” Morgan had said.

 

“That’s how I stay alive,” Jensen had responded.

 

And the way he did it, he left no trace behind. There was no footage of him on any security camera in the area. The only thing left to do was pick up the arrow and rope on the building he’d used for access, and the guy who had dared to steal from Jared Padalecki would be a ghost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  


“The guy can’t be a fucking ghost! You know how I fucking know that? Ghosts don’t steal stuff. And if they did, they wouldn’t need to cut into a window to get into a room! So obviously we’re dealing with a person of flesh and blood here. And you’re telling me that there are no prints, no fibers, no fucking nothing. Nothing on all of the security cameras on the street or in the building. You’re even telling me that you haven’t actually found out how he got on top of the building or down from it. You have no idea how this... this thief stole my painting?”

 

When Jared got angry, smart people took cover. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between pissed and murderous, though. When Jared got quiet, that was when they needed to run for your life. If he was shouting, he wouldn’t do more than break a few bones.

 

Chad took a deep breath and continued to explain. “Like I said, the guy’s really good. And short of asking another master thief for advice, I have no idea how to figure it out. But I don’t think we need to in order to get the painting back. I mean, there’s really only one guy who would have that painting stolen from you, isn't there?”

 

Chad looked at Jared with raised eyebrows.

 

Jared narrowed his eyes and dialed number five on his speed dial. This time Lehne had gone too far. This time, Jared would make him bleed.

 

With a click his call was answered. There was no greeting; there never was.

 

“Mike, get your ass over to my place. There’s something for you to do that will make you really happy.”

  
  


When Frederic Lehne was a whimpering, bloody mess on the floor of a moldy foreclosure and Mike had left to take a shower and change his clothes, Jared turned to Chad.

 

“Take Abel and two other guys and go to the drop tomorrow. I want my painting and I want Jensen Campbell. Alive. Because when you bring him to me, I want to explain to him in minute detail what exactly happens to people who dare to steal from me, before I actually do it to him.”

 

“Sure thing, Jared. Aren’t you a little bit curious about the guy, though? He must have balls the size of Texas to pull this off,” Chad asked.

 

“I don’t care if his balls are made out of diamonds and taste like chocolate milkshakes, Chad. Just bring him to me.”

 

Jared would make an example of that fucking thief, just like he had with Lehne. Fortunately, he could be a little more public with an art thief. Misha would love lighting a fire for Jared.

 

“Okay. Okay, jeez don’t get your panties in a twist, man.” Chad ducked out of the way before Jared could hit him upside his head and Jared was left with the unsettling feeling that someone had actually managed to outsmart him. That probably hadn’t happened since third grade, when Jenny Ellerman had promised him her bottle of Snapple in exchange for his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, only for him to find out that while it was a Snapple bottle, it was actually filled with a disgusting apple-flavored iced tea instead. It was disconcerting to say the least. Jensen Campbell definitely needed to be taught a lesson.

 

Jared followed Chad out of the abandoned house, Clif trailing close behind him. Lehne would probably survive, but Jared wasn’t worried about him talking. They never did. Mike had that effect on people.

  
  


Three hours later Chad came over to Jared’s house. Jared was lounging in front of his TV, catching the evening round of the ball games.

 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a date with that girl from the coffee shop.”

 

Chad smirked. “I did. But let’s face it, I have a date with a girl almost every night, and figuring out who stole your painting is way more interesting.”

 

Jared scowled. He really didn’t need the reminder. He needed to know that Chad was taking this seriously, though.

 

“Did you scout the drop point?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, of course I did. It’s a small coffee shop. Shit, they’re like everywhere. A lot of the ‘hip’ young crowd hang out there, it’s all _organic_  and stuff.” Chad scrunched up his nose like he was talking about something disgusting. “It’s not going to be a problem. Jake and me are gonna come in through the front looking all mean and mob-like and most importantly dumb, so he’ll try to sneak out the back, where Jimmy and Dale will be waiting. He’ll be trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.”

 

“Really, Chad, a fly?”

 

“Hey, don’t mock my metaphors! Especially since I come bearing gifts.” He held up a USB stick. “Behold the wonder that is Jensen Campbell’s FBI file. Aldis is working on the Interpol file right now, but he said that was gonna take a little longer. Something about him not being familiar with their database or something.”

 

Jared sat up straight and held out his hand. “Alright. Show me the bastard who seems to think he can steal from me and live.”

 

“Ah ah aah-ah.” Chad wagged a finger at him. “This is too good to just hand over. Lemme do a little show and tell.”

 

Chad picked up his laptop from the sideboard and then started rooting around behind Jared’s TV for a cable, probably to hook it up to the computer.

 

“Chad, is this really necessary?” Jared just wanted to finally have a face to put to the guy so he could imagine it twisting in pain when Jared broke every bone in the guy’s fingers.

 

“Oh, trust me, man, you won’t regret it.” Chad shot him a lewd look and a wink.

 

Jared didn’t even try to figure out what that meant; with Chad that was mostly impossible anyway.

 

He heard the front door open and close and a minute later Mike came in.

 

Some people in the business, among them his father and brother, shook their heads about Jared’s close relationship with his inner circle. Especially his father, a criminal of the old style, thought he should be more boss, less friend. Not that that had really worked out for his father. Jared had explained it to him once, and even though Vincent had remained skeptical, Jared’s success proved him right.

 

They were a close-knit group. He had picked them all up somewhere along the way and given them a place and a purpose. He had few lines and as long as they didn’t cross them he pretty much tolerated everything else. They knew Jared would always back them up and that made them loyal to the end.

 

It didn’t hurt that he genuinely enjoyed their company. In Jared’s opinion it didn’t make him weak to actually have friends like the Italian boss had insinuated during their last negotiation; it made him stronger. And it was the Italian boss who was now buried six feet under, while Jared was about to have a nice evening with his people. With them by his side, he could do anything. Besides, Jared was a sociable guy at heart.

 

That didn’t mean that they didn’t annoy the hell out of him sometimes, like now, when Chad was trying to set up a show and tell on his flat screen, and Mike had grabbed a beer from his fridge, plopped down on the couch next to Jared without any respect for personal space, burped and asked, “What are we watching?”

 

Jared sighed. They all had places of their own, but more often than not they crashed in one of his guest rooms. It had gone so far that these rooms weren’t even considered guest rooms anymore. Even his housekeeper referred to them as theirs. That in turn meant that they considered everything in his fridge theirs as well. Thank God Sam always bought enough groceries to feed an army.

 

“Jared’s little art thief.” Chad was interrupted when Sam stormed into the living room.

 

“Michael Rosenbaum! Why is there a bunch of bloody clothes in my laundry room?”

 

Jared raised an eyebrow at him and Mike looked sheepish. “Hey Mrs. F. Sorry about that. I didn’t have time to do laundry before I came over here and my Momma taught me to never let stains dry in. Besides, you’re way better at that than I am, so...”

 

Sam huffed. “Don’t try to flatter me, boy. I know that you’re just too lazy to do it yourself.”

 

Mike smiled angelically at Sam. It was a stark contrast to the expression he’d worn when he’d beaten Lehne into submission, but Mike had no trouble uniting these contrasts in himself.

 

“I de-snailed your garden for you yesterday.” Mike actually loved to garden. It was a therapeutic measure he’d had to endure during one of his juvie visits and it had stuck.

 

“Did you, now?” Sam tried not to show it, but she seemed mollified. “Well, maybe you can make yourself a little more useful and help me plant some more strawberries, while... What are you doing anyway?” The last part was directed at Chad who finally seemed satisfied with the set-up and had settled into the big armchair with the laptop in his lap.

 

“Taking a look at Jared’s art thief,” he answered.

 

Sam took the spot next to Mike on the couch. “Oh, that I have to see.”

 

Mike scooted over and made space for Sam on the couch. Jared felt his annoyance level rise. This was not a matter of entertainment.

 

“Now, are we all settled in? Everybody comfortable? Good. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jensen Campbell!” Chad waved dramatically at the screen.

 

When the picture of a guy walking up to a little café filled the screen, Jared knew what Chad had meant earlier.

 

“Well, if he isn’t as cute as a button.”

 

Jared couldn’t agree more with Sam on that. The guy in the picture was gorgeous. From the angle and distance it had to be a surveillance shot, probably taken from a van across the street. The Feds were predictable like that.

 

The guy was walking up to a little restaurant with a few tables on the sidewalk. He looked tall and well built. Short, dark blond hair, a strong profile and soft-looking lips. Probably in his mid-twenties, a little younger than Jared maybe. And gorgeous indeed.

 

Chad switched to the next picture. Campbell was sitting at one of the restaurant’s tables, looking across the street and the camera had zoomed in, catching his face and his upper body.

 

Jared had to admit that gorgeous didn’t cover it anymore. Campbell was fucking stunning. He had expressive features with a lickable jawline, huge eyes with dark long lashes, and the most kissable lips Jared had ever seen. Seriously, he could not get over that mouth. His mind was filled with images of how that mouth would look wrapped around his dick, and Jared wondered when he had reverted back to a horny fourteen year-old.

 

“If you’re done drooling, I could go on,” Chad smirked at him.

 

Mike guffawed.

 

Jared shot him a murderous glare and just waved at him to continue. No point in denying it, Chad knew him better than anyone else and he knew his type. And Campbell was _exactly_  his type. Jared had just never thought that perfection like that existed outside of Hollywood.

 

“These pictures were taken about five years ago,” Chad explained. So Campbell would be around thirty now, a little older than Jared. “Campbell was suspected of being part of a crew who ripped off several museums and art galleries up and down the east coast. All very high-profile, high-risk heists. The crew was caught, but two guys, one of ‘em Campbell, managed to escape with five hundred grand in cash.”

 

Mike whistled.

 

“He disappeared after that for about two years, before he popped up in the Interpol database as a suspect in a break-in in London,” Chad continued. “After that, he basically hopped around Europe, doing heists in eight different countries. Nothing was ever proven, though. He popped back up on the Feds’ radar when he landed in Atlanta about a week ago, but they have nothing on him, apart from some circumstantial evidence, so they’re leaving him alone for now. But he’s definitely on the White Collar Division’s watch list.”

 

Jared eyed the picture speculatively. “What else do they know about him? Where is he from, how did he grow up, that sort of thing.”

 

“He’s kind of a ghost,” Chad said. “The Feds don’t have much on him so I had one of my guys dig around. Birth certificate makes him a Kansas native, but there are no records of him anywhere before he was a suspect in a few B & E's all over the country. He was never convicted and there’s nothing big time until about six years ago when he allegedly robbed the Paul Getty Museum in LA. Pretty soon after he started running with this crew up in New York, doing the big scores. They list him as a suspect in some other heists, but only based on the style of the break-in, not because of any evidence.”

 

“So the guy’s good,” Jared said.

 

“Pretty good, yeah,” Chad answered. “I called a buddy of mine up in Boston to get in touch with the local art scene and get me some info. According to him, not many people worked with Campbell because he didn’t spend much time there, but he has a reputation in the business. People say he’s a crazy son of a bitch. His favorite way of getting into a building? Rappelling from the roof. He’s also known for his impossibly clean exits, whatever the hell that means. Oh, and he’s got a bit of an attitude. Based on the file, I’m pretty sure that Lehne was telling the truth. This is your guy.”

 

“Well, doesn’t really matter. He will still bleed like any other guy.”

 

Sam looked at him with raised eyebrows and Chad asked, “Sure that’s what you wanna do with him? Not, you know, something else?”

 

“He stole from me, Chad. It doesn’t matter how pretty I think he is.”

 

“Really? ‘Cause I also heard he’s battin’ for your team.”

 

“Well unlike other people,” Jared shot Chad a meaningful glare, “I don’t think with my dick.”

 

“Ah, speaking of, I can still catch my date. I’ll leave you the flash-drive, Jay. Have fun!” Chad winked and was out of the room before Jared could say anything.

 

Mike got up from the couch, rubbing his hands. “Alright, show me where you put the seeds.”

 

Sam smiled indulgently. “Out in the shed.”

 

In Jared’s opinion, her gardening worked better to keep Mike balanced than all other measures the system had forced upon him—well, except for beating someone to a pulp of course, but even Jared couldn’t provide Mike with opportunities like that all the time.

 

“I’m on it.” Mike was out of the room in a heartbeat.

 

Sam turn back to Jared. “You know, they have a point. It has been a while.”

 

Jared knew that tone, the serious one laced with concern, and he asked, “What has been a while?”

 

“Since you had a relationship. And yes, Chris wasn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find someone else.”

 

“Sam, I’m twenty-seven. No need to worry about me becoming an old spinster.”

 

“I just don’t like to see you lonely, boy, that’s all. And I know you have your friends and the dogs but that’s not the same.” She gave him a sad smile, eyes filled with worry. She hadn’t looked at him like that in a long time.

 

Sam walked out of the living room and Jared was left feeling completely off kilter. Sure, it had been a while since he’d dated, but doing what he did, finding a boyfriend wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t exactly hard to meet people, but it was hard to meet those you could trust. There was always a chance they just wanted him for his power or his money or even worse, were working for the cops. He still hadn’t forgotten the guy who’d come into his club three months ago and tried to seduce him: it had been such an obvious and purposeful come on, it had just screamed cop. Most people would be too intimidated to approach him that openly. Even though Jared considered himself a good guy, he had no illusions about the side of himself that allowed him to conduct his business. He had to be hard and he had to make tough choices. He didn't mind doing it; you didn’t get through life with a smile and saying please. People understood money, power, and violence. Jared had learned how to deal in those and he was good at it. If he was honest with himself, he even enjoyed it. It provided the occasional outlet for the anger he always carried deep inside. But he could be nice, if he wanted to. He loved his dogs, he would never hurt a child, and he was loyal to his friends. But if someone crossed him, that was an entirely different matter. Then, he let his anger run free to destroy whatever was in his way.

 

He leaned back on the couch, switched back to baseball where the White Sox were currently getting their asses handed to them and tried to tell himself that he wasn’t lonely. He got laid as much as the next guy. Well, maybe not as much as Chad, but that really wasn’t something to strive for. He had a group of close friends. He didn’t need a boyfriend. Chris had been nice but he hadn’t been able to handle where Jared wanted to take his life, not as a partner by his side. As much as Jared enjoyed being the dominant part in a relationship, it would be nice to find a guy who could handle him, all of him—his position, his demanding hours, the illegality, and his moods. Jared’s job could be stressful and he wasn’t the most patient when it came to dealing with other people’s demands.

 

He’d tried dating guys who didn’t talk back, didn’t question his decisions or his schedule, but they just bored him. Jared needed someone with backbone who’d be willing to walk by his side but also give him the room he needed. He wanted someone who would be willing to wait up for him without being a pushover. And as much as he had assured Sam, he wasn’t sure if there was someone like that out there.

 

When Sadie came in from outside, she took one look at him, then jumped up on the couch, settling in beside Jared and putting her head on his chest. He started stroking her ears and wondered how his damn dog could be so perceptive of his mood.

  


 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Jensen’s alarm clock went off way too fucking early, but he was supposed to meet Lehne at two. Alona had sent him a message that Lehne was out sick today at his office, and that he’d actually had his doctor do a house call. Jensen would bet his left hand that Padalecki had squeezed Lehne for information and Lehne had ratted him out. Which was exactly what Jensen had been hoping for. So Padalecki's guys would be at the drop point, and Jensen needed to make catching him as hard as possible for them. He had a reputation to build after all. And that meant getting there early. Like two hours early.

 

Jensen dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. It was a crappy thing and the way the water dribbled out, it didn’t even deserve to be called pressure anymore. After a quick shave, he stood in his bedroom and debated what to wear. He needed to look his best without seeming like he was trying too hard.

 

He took out the pair of jeans he had bought with Cat two weeks ago. Somehow it already seemed like a lifetime ago.

 

As compensation for missing out on her birthday, Cat had insisted he go shopping with her and buy her a present of her choosing. Jensen had groaned, but ultimately it had been a good idea. His sister was a fashion genius and Jensen Campbell was nothing if not meticulous about the way he dressed. Jensen couldn’t show up at Padalecki's in ripped jeans (at least not old, ripped jeans) and band shirts.

 

So not only had he bought Cat a new dress that would probably get all the teenage guys in the vicinity drooling, he had also let her dress him.

 

The pants he now pulled out were what Cat called casual-stunner-pants. Jensen had told her he might want to go out on a date some time and she’d pulled them off the shelf without hesitation.

 

“You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard,” she’d said, “but you still want to look your best. Trust me, these pants are the best fit for you but they’re not too tight or too flashy.”

 

”So they’re casual,” Jensen had started and Cat had nodded. “But they’ll make you look stunning. Go try them on.”

 

When Jensen came out of the changing cabin and spun for her, she gave him the thumbs up. “No one who is even remotely interested in men will be able to resist you.”

 

Cat had been thirteen when Jensen had told her he was gay, after she’d bugged him about getting a girlfriend for three weeks straight, and she had taken it in stride, better than anyone else in his family. Her interest in his love life had never abated, which annoyed Jensen most of the time. He was grateful though, because now he owned a pair of pants that would make Padalecki stumble all over himself in order to get Jensen horizontal. Or something like that.

 

Cat had also told him that he should either wear a white or a black shirt, because that would make his eyes pop (her words). He chose a white one with a weird smiley face printed on it. He had picked it up in a second-hand designer store and it was exactly something Campbell would wear.

 

Now for the last part. Jensen took the little package of bacon out of the fridge and hoped this would work. It had actually been Morgan’s suggestion, when he’d called him yesterday to tell him about the drop. It certainly couldn’t hurt, so he might as well.

 

Morgan had also told him that they would be watching, but Jensen knew that he would be on his own. If anything went sideways, they would need to give him time to talk his way out of it and if that didn’t work, well it would already be too late.

 

Jensen threw on a leather jacket and picked up his messenger bag. He left the apartment, made his way down to the street and hailed a cab. His stomach was a hard coiled knot of anticipation but the adrenaline pumping through his body made him want to smile. Show time.

  
  
  


The meeting point with Lehne’s man was at a coffee shop. Thank fuck for that. Jensen checked out the alley that ran down the side of the building and then went inside. He sat down at a table in the back, close to the door with the sign ‘Employees Only’. It would lead to the storage rooms and to the back door. It was Jensen’s way out.

 

If Padalecki's men were as good as he thought they were, they would post two guys at the back exit. His escape could be very short-lived, but since Campbell had no reason to suspect a double-cross, that was alright.

 

They showed up around one o’clock and parked their car across the street. Jensen recognized the driver as Jake Abel. He was considered part of the inner circle, but since he’d joined Padalecki's team only six months ago he probably didn’t have a lot of clout yet. Jensen couldn’t make out the other guy in the car, but he was sure he’d meet him soon enough.

 

They watched the coffee shop for the next forty-five minutes and Jensen tried his best to ignore them and read his book. He managed about ten pages during the whole time.

 

The moment of truth was coming closer, and he was once again hit by the insanity of the whole plan. How could he be so arrogant as to think Padalecki would forgive him for stealing a painting just because of his looks? Yeah, he was Padalecki’s type but so were a lot of guys, and he could have anyone he wanted anyway. Jensen was insane. And arrogant. And probably dead in about an hour. Fuck.

 

He was startled out of his thoughts when Abel and another guy got out of the car. Crap. Padalecki had sent Murray too. Maybe that meant he had done his research and was sufficiently impressed with Jensen. Or he was just pissed.

 

Jensen forced himself to stay in his seat until the two mobsters entered the café. He made a show of looking at them, running his eyes over the bulges their weapons made in their shoulder holsters under their suits and jumped out of the chair. He grabbed his bag and his book and started running towards the back. Behind him he heard someone shout and the sounds of running and tables being toppled over.

 

Jensen went through the employees only door, closed it behind him and turned the lock. That would buy him a couple of seconds. He could hear banging and yelling through the door and ran down the corridor to the back exit.

 

He opened the back door a little bit, drew it closed and then jammed it outwards with all the force he could manage. A thump and a grunt on the other side told him he had at least hit one of the guys. He threw the door open again and came face to face with a guy who had been smart enough to stay out of the door’s reach. He came at Jensen and Jensen ducked his punch, turned, and slammed his book into the guy’s trachea. He fell like a tree. The other guy had gotten up again and drew his gun.

 

Jensen cursed and started down the alley. He heard two shots being fired, even felt one whizzing by him. Crap, he had bet his life on Padalecki wanting him alive, why were they shooting at him, dammit, and then he heard the door bang open again and someone shouted, “Fuck, don’t shoot him, the boss wants him alive.”

 

Relief flooded Jensen as he made his way through the back alleys. His lungs started to burn and he banged his knee on a couple of boxes and nearly twisted his ankle when he jumped a fence into another alley.

 

He looked back to see if they were still following him, but they weren’t close enough. Jensen pretended to limp as if he’d really twisted his ankle and he could hear the shout of victory behind him. He could have saved himself the charade though, because when he rounded the corner he was faced with a brick wall.

 

There were some crates and boxes strewn across the alley and Jensen at least made the attempt to pile them up against the wall. He was standing on top of the boxes, preparing to jump up and catch the edge of the wall, when he heard his pursuers round the corner.

 

“Don’t move, jackass, or I’ll put a bullet in your ass!”

 

Jensen turned around. “Seriously? My ass?”

 

Murray smirked. “The boss wants to talk to you, and he wants you alive but that don’t mean I can’t hurt you a bit.”

 

“Fair enough.” Jensen raised his hands above his head—god how he hated that pose—and climbed carefully down from the stacked boxes. “You gonna tell me who this boss is that you’re taking me too?”

 

Murray grinned brightly. “Nah. Don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

 

Jensen sighed dramatically. “Mobsters.”

 

Murray’s grin broadened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

  
  


 

 

  
  


Jensen could no longer count the times he had sat in the back of a car with a bag over his head. It was standard procedure when you were brought to a mob home, but he would never get used to the darkness and the stifling air.

 

The car came to a stop and Jensen could hear a gate rolling open. After a short drive, they came to a final halt. Jensen was dragged out of the car and then the bag was finally pulled off.

 

Murray was looking at him with a smile on his face. “C'mon, the boss wants to talk to you. I should probably get some popcorn for the show. Are you a screamer? Please tell me you are.”

 

Jensen cringed inwardly, but he didn’t show it. Instead he snorted. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”

 

Murray shoved him inside the house. “Yeah, yeah, keep talking. Not gonna help you in there, though.”

 

He led Jensen through the ginormous house, high ceilings, marble floors and expensive furniture everywhere. He didn’t have time to take it all in before he was ushered out the back to a wide and spacious veranda.

 

A big guy in a cheap suit, probably the muscle, was standing ramrod straight, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and behind him at a table sat two men. The one on the right Jensen recognized instantly from his tousled brown hair and startling blue eyes. Misha Collins. He seemed calm but curious. Jensen didn’t know if he had expected to see the crazy in his eyes but he was almost disappointed by Collins’ unthreatening appearance.

 

The other guy had to be Padalecki himself. Jensen couldn’t be sure, because he was currently half hidden behind the paper he was reading.

 

“Yo, Jay, look what we found,” Murray announced cheerfully and pushed Jensen forward.

 

Jensen’s heart picked up speed and beat like crazy. This was it. His Hail Mary. High risk, high reward. Either Padalecki would have him killed right away or he’d decide he liked the pretty thief who had the balls to steal from him. From a distance this had seemed like such a good plan. But now, standing here on the guy’s patio, Jensen wasn’t so sure anymore. In fact, he was pretty sure this was going to blow up in his face.

 

Padalecki lowered the paper and with a sort of clinical detachment Jensen noticed how much more good-looking Padalecki was in person. He had known from the pictures that he was handsome but they didn't do him justice at all. Well, if the plan succeeded, at least Jensen wouldn't have to worry about physical attraction.

 

Jensen decided to focus on that, on how much Jensen Campbell would appreciate the eye candy. It would help with the flirting.

 

The gaze Padalecki leveled at Jensen was ice cold.

 

“So, you’re the guy who tried to steal from me.” Slowly, Padalecki looked Jensen up and down, expression giving nothing away. “That makes you either stupid or insane. Which one is it?” Padalecki's voice was deep and smooth and there was a hint of curiosity in it. Good. Jensen could use that.

 

“I’m neither,” Jensen said, fighting to keep his voice calm and unworried. “Just very good at what I do. I mean, I didn’t just  _ try _ to steal something. I actually took the painting out of the building. That’s not what you’d call trying, is it?”

 

Collins grinned, Abel sucked in a breath, and behind him Murray murmured, “Dude, I told you the talking wouldn’t help.”

 

Jensen just shot him an annoyed look, because really, Jensen Campbell would be fucking offended at hearing a perfect heist referred to as merely ‘trying’.

 

When he looked back to Padalecki, he was greeted with a look that was probably seventy percent pissed off and thirty percent impressed. At least that was what Jensen hoped it was.

 

“I’ll admit, you got my attention. It’s been a while since somebody got the better of me like that. Not that many people try. But you’re here now and I assume, so is the painting.” The last part was directed at Murray, who nodded.

 

“That means, essentially, you failed.” Padalecki gave him a sharp smile. “It also leaves the question of what I will do with you, now that I have you here. Should I go easy on you because you actually had the balls to steal from me and just put a bullet in your head, or should I teach you a lesson first about biting off more than you can chew?”

 

Well, shit. Padalecki was going to kill him. Jensen drew in a deep breath and sank deeper into his cover. If he wanted to talk himself out of this, he would need to pull out the big guns. If not, he’d need to take a swan dive into the flower bed and from there to the bushes that would provide cover. It was at least thirty yards. Jensen doubted he would get that far before he’d get a bullet in his back.

 

“Whoa there, no need for the gun talk,” Jensen said, raising his hands placatingly. “I just did what I was hired to do. It wasn’t my idea to steal from you.”

 

“And yet you did. Why is that?” Padalecki asked, tilting his head curiously. “Seems like an unnecessary risk, stealing from me.”

 

“Like I said, not my idea of a good time but, well, the money was good.” Jensen smiled at Padalecki winningly. “But hey, you got your painting back, and you know where the security weaknesses in your office are, so no harm no foul, right?” 

 

“Yeah, no. See, you still stole from me. I can’t encourage this kind of behavior by letting you live.” Padalecki almost sounded regretful.

 

“I get that, you have a reputation to protect. But I’ll be out of the city tonight and I certainly won’t tell anyone. Can’t have people knowing I got caught, now can I?” Jensen made a face and decided to switch tactics, guiding the conversation in another direction. “By the way, how did you figure out it was me? It’s been driving me nuts ever since your guys picked me up.”

 

“You’re obviously not as good as you think you are,” Padalecki said smugly.

 

Oh, that was  _ it _ . Campbell would never let that kind of trash talk go. “Oh fuck you! I know exactly how good I am.” Jensen suppressed a snort at Padalecki’s surprised face at his outburst and continued with his tirade. “I did a clean job. So your guys got me at the drop point, but—Wait.” Jensen paused for effect. “You didn’t find  _ me _ , you found the drop point. You never figured out it was me, didn’t you? You just figured out who ordered the job and the asshole ratted me out.”

 

“Very good.” Padalecki gave him a patronizing smile. “Lehne wasn’t prepared to die for the painting and of course neither for you. So he gave you up.”

 

Jensen rattled off some more choice words under his breath before he looked at Padalecki again. “But how did you even know it was him? Just because he bid on that painting, too? Bit of a stretch, isn’t it?” he asked.

 

“For someone who’s supposed to be so good you really didn’t do your homework well.” Padalecki clearly enjoyed having the upper hand and playing with Jensen.

 

“What do you mean?” Jensen asked, narrowing his eyes and letting annoyance color his voice. Padalecki needed to see right from the start that Jensen wouldn’t just roll over, that he’d be a challenge.

 

“The painting belonged to Lehne’s family,” Collins said.

 

“Misha,” Jared warned. “We don’t need a history lesson.”

 

“Oh, psh! He did an admirable job, he deserves to know why it went wrong. Now, where was I?”

 

“It belonged to Lehne’s family,” Jensen supplied helpfully.

 

“Ah, yes.” Collins perked up and leaned forward, clearly enjoying telling this story. “Well, it belonged to them while they were still living in Germany, but they had gotten it out of an auction of repossessed Jewish goods. Lehne always claimed it was a legitimate sale, but since it had been stolen by the Nazis it was returned to the original owners a few decades ago. Lehne claimed it was rightfully his and tried to get it back for years, but of course it didn’t work. So when the auction went up...” Collins moved his hands in a you-know-what-happened-next kind of gesture.

 

“I see,” Jensen said, ice in his voice. “It seems my fixer left that out when he offered me the job. God, when I see that bastard again, I’m gonna cut his fucking tongue out.”

 

“Yeah, you’re not really gonna go anywhere,” Padalecki said and pointed his gun at Jensen.

 

On a rational level, Jensen knew he should be afraid now. Padalecki showed no inclination to hear Jensen out, to give him the opportunity to make a deal with him.

 

Instead of panicking, Jensen’s vision sharpened, his senses went into overdrive. He noticed the beautiful gun pointed at him, a Colt 1911 with engravings on the barrel. He noticed that Padalecki's eyes weren’t brown like he had thought, but a multicolored mix of brown, green, and even a little blue. And he noticed that there was no bloodlust in them, not right this moment. Jensen couldn’t tell how he knew, what it was in Padalecki's eyes that reassured him, or if Padalecki himself even knew. In that moment it was clear to Jensen that Padalecki did not want to shoot him. Relief and elation surged through him and he couldn’t help but smile.

 

Padalecki looked at him, completely confused, and Collins was watching him like he was a rare animal. Jensen Campbell would have told him that he’d been a unicorn in a former life. As it was, Jensen just said, “Beautiful gun.”

 

“It is,” Padalecki agreed. “Does that help with getting shot?”

 

Jensen gave a wry grin. “Not really. But you’re not going to shoot me, so it doesn’t really matter.”

 

“And pray tell, why am I not going to shoot you?” Padalecki asked slightly amused.

 

Jensen spread his arms. “Because I’m Jensen fucking Campbell.”

 

“So?”

 

“So? Seriously? I mean, you did your research, right? You know who I am, what I’m capable of?”

 

“Again: so?” Padalecki asked, trying to sound unimpressed, but Jensen could see the smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Well, obviously, as reparations for stealing from you, I will offer you my services to compensate you for the emotional damage that comes with having a painting stolen from your office.”

 

“Services?” Padalecki cocked his head to the side and let his gaze travel up and down Jensen’s body again. The guarded expression from before had given way to open appreciation. Finally.

 

“Oh, yes,” Jensen said, completely ignoring Padalecki checking him out. “I have many skills.”

 

Behind him Murray laughed and Padalecki smiled indulgently. “That I don’t doubt. Although you probably don’t even need them. Just lying there looking pretty would be enough most times.”

 

Jensen wiped the smile off his face and scowled at Padalecki. “Not the skills I was talking about. Although obviously I have those as well.”

 

“Obviously.” Padalecki echoed, but Jensen just continued, “But I was talking about my professional skills. You know, entering buildings undetected, taking things out, bringing things in, that sort of thing. I’m sure there is something you want somewhere that you can’t have.”

 

“Apparently there is,” Padalecki said, looking meaningfully at Jensen.

 

Jensen huffed. “Jeez, you’re a good-looking guy, you can’t be that desperate.”

 

“I’m not, but you’re pretty.”

 

“I know,” Jensen deadpanned.

 

At that Padalecki had to laugh. It was a good laugh, full-bellied and showing dimples. It was so out of place with the threat of death hanging over him, Jensen felt like he’d fallen into the Twilight Zone.

 

“You know, you’re something else,” Padalecki chuckled, and Jensen gave him his most charming grin. Johnny used to tell him it was the one to use on the in-laws.

 

Padalecki smiled back at him and, yeah, Jensen could get behind this. Or in front. Shit, he must be deeper into his Campbell persona than he thought; there was no other reason for his one-track mind. Campbell was a horndog.

 

“So here’s my deal,” Padalecki said.

 

Jensen had to concentrate on the matters at hand. Right. Not getting shot. And listening to Padalecki offering him a deal.

 

“You spend the rest of the day and the night here and if I wake up tomorrow morning a happy man, you’re free to go.” Padalecki was grinning like a shark and Jensen could hear someone whistle behind him. Probably Murray.

 

As good as Padalecki's offer sounded, there was only one way this could go if Jensen wanted in long term. Padalecki was offering him one night, and Jensen would never earn his respect if he spread his legs in exchange for his freedom. All the careful preparation would have been for nothing.

 

Campbell would be tempted too, but for other reasons, like Padalecki’s broad shoulders or the way his strong hands were casually handling a gun. For a moment, Jensen worried about how easy it was for him to see the attraction but he had more important matters to focus on.

 

“Then no deal,” Jensen said regretfully. “I’m still prepared to get something else for you and even be on your payroll for the next, say, five years. Without getting paid of course. But only my professional skills. My body is not for sale.”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Yes. I’m not a whore.”

 

Padalecki trailed his eyes up and down Jensen’s body with almost clinical assessment. “Too bad. You’d be good at it.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

 

Padalecki laughed again. “Probably both,” he said and raised his gun again. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

 

Jensen shook his head and concentrated on Padalecki and the gun he was holding. Jensen still couldn’t believe that Padalecki would shoot him. It wasn’t the first time Jensen had stared down the barrel of a gun but the fear was absent. It didn’t feel like he was about to die, which made absolutely no sense, Jensen knew. It just seemed impossible that Padalecki would shoot him. 

 

Well, wishful thinking and all that. It was a comforting thought that Padalecki was going to go to jail for murdering him. Morgan knew he was in here, they could storm the place, didn’t even need a search warrant. Kidnapping an FBI agent was probable cause enough and since Padalecki had no idea who he really was, they might just be able to catch him off guard. Yes, his death would not be in vain. Or so he told himself.

 

He heard Collins say something, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. The only thing he saw was the end of Padalecki's gun and the only thing he allowed himself to think so that his bravado wouldn’t fail was “He’s going down for this.”

 

Suddenly there was a cold touch at his hand and the spell was broken. He looked down and saw a big brown dog standing next to him, tail wagging and excitedly sniffing his hand and leg.

 

“Harley!” Padalecki's voice was harsh and the dog, Harley, looked over to Padalecki quickly before he resumed sniffing and licking Jensen.

 

Jensen knelt down beside the dog and scratched behind his ears.

 

“Hey, boy,” he greeted and Harley barked happily at him, getting closer to Jensen, trying to climb into his lap.

 

“Whoa, easy boy,” Jensen chuckled, doubling his efforts to scratch and pat Harley.

 

This could be his way in. Padalecki loved his dogs, everybody knew that. If his dogs liked you, you were in. Apparently they were great judges of character. Which was why Morgan had suggested he rub some bacon grease on his skin so the dogs would like him. Apparently it had worked. Jensen had thought it might help him to get into Jared’s good graces faster; he’d never thought that it might save his life.

 

“Harley, you big slut, come here!” Padalecki's voice left no room for argument and after a quick lick Harley went over to sit beside Padalecki and made big eyes at him. So no help there for Jensen.

 

Padalecki fixed Harley with a hard stare, pointed a finger at him and said “Bad dog!”

 

Jensen would normally find it funny how the big dog basically folded himself together under Padalecki's reprimand and started whining pitifully, but with everyone’s  attention on the dog, Jensen knew this was it. His moment to escape. Maybe he wouldn’t die after all.

 

Jensen ran to the railing, gripped it tight and jumped over it, landing lightly in the grass below him.

 

“Why are you still standing here? Get him back!” he heard Padalecki shout, but Jensen was already in motion, sprinting towards the bushes and trees growing at the far end of the wall of Padalecki's compound.

 

There were no gunshots behind him, only the pounding of running feet, so they still wanted him alive.

 

The pool was on his right, the still-bare wall to his left and he had maybe twenty yards to the vegetation, fifteen, ten and the pool flared out into his way, an adjacent hot tub he hadn’t seen because of the soft slope of the ground and Jensen veered left. Closer to the wall now and there were some lounge chairs by the hot tub and Jensen would run between them, hoping the ground wasn’t wet, hoping he wouldn’t slip. There was another sharp yell behind him and then something brown blurred into his vision from his left and suddenly a heavy weight slammed into him. Jensen stumbled, there was barking and then he fell and instead of hitting hard tiles, he hit water.

 

He spluttered, disoriented by all the cold water surrounding him, swallowed chlorine water and finally broke the surface. There, at the edge of the pool sat a dog, slightly smaller than Harley, and it growled at him.

 

Fuck, he had forgotten that Padalecki had two dogs.

 

A moment later the rest of the gang was there, waiting for Padalecki, who appeared with Harley on his heels.

 

Padalecki stood next to the other dog, patted its head and cooed, “Good girl, Sadie, such a good dog!”

 

Sadie stopped growling immediately; instead she leaned into Padalecki's hand, clearly enjoying the praise. Harley looked contrite and a little bit envious, Jensen thought.

 

Padalecki shot Jensen a dark glance and ordered his men to drag him out.

 

Murray approached the pool, one hand outstretched, the other pointing a gun at Jensen.

 

“The hard or the easy way?” he asked.

 

Jensen chose the easy way and gripped Murray’s hand. If he was going to end up dead, it wasn’t going to be floating in a pool.

 

He climbed out of the pool, his pants heavy with water, riding low on his hipbones and clinging to his legs in that uncomfortable way that only wet denim did. His shirt was plastered to his chest and despite the early summer warmth, he shivered when a breeze blew through the garden.

 

He dragged a hand over his face, tried to get the water off, pushed his hair out of his face and turned to Padalecki. He was going to tell Padalecki that he’d won, to just get this over with, but when he caught sight of Padalecki's face, he couldn’t say anything at all.

 

The boy king of Chicago’s underworld, the man thousands of dangerous men feared, was staring at him, hungry-eyed and open-mouthed. Padalecki got himself together quickly, but he didn’t stop eyeing Jensen. Huh. Apparently he liked the wet look. Maybe it wasn’t over yet.

 

Jensen took two steps forward, swiveling his hips slightly and his pants slid down a little bit further.

 

Padalecki dragged his eyes up to Jensen’s face and asked, ”Changed your mind?”

 

Jensen stopped dead in his tracks. “No,” he said, looking Padalecki dead in the eyes. Even if he was going to die, he was not going to back down.

 

Padalecki's next question surprised him. “Do you find me really that repulsive?”

 

Jensen couldn’t help it, he threw his head back and laughed. Because really, the whole situation was a complete mindfuck and he needed to release the tension somehow.

 

When he focused back on Padalecki, he looked slightly stunned. Well, what kind of reaction did he expect?

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s just, it’s quite the opposite. I mean, you’re probably the hottest guy I’ve seen since, shit, I don’t even know, but it’s a matter of principle. So as much as I would love to roll around in the sheets with you, not like this. Never like this. And if that means I die, then so be it.”

 

“Seriously?” Collins asked him, not outraged, but genuinely curious.

 

Jensen nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Behind him a cell phone rang and Murray answered quietly.

 

Padalecki was still staring at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever regretted having to kill a man this much, especially before I’ve even done it.”

 

Jensen just shrugged. “Just please don’t shoot me in the face. I deserve an open casket, don’t you think?”

 

“Oh, sweetheart, no, I would never do that,” Padalecki said soothingly and Jensen believed him.

 

He was still not afraid, still couldn’t believe Padalecki would pull the trigger. The gun was raised again though, the end of the barrel pointed at his chest.

 

“Jesus goddamn fucking Christ on a pogo stick!”

  
  
  


 

 

  
  
  


Padalecki turned around to Murray who looked murderous.

 

“How could you be so fucking stupid?” he yelled into the phone, then massaged his temples angrily. “No, wait, don’t answer that. God, what a fucking mess!”

 

“What’s going on?” Padalecki asked, while Murray listened to whatever the other person on the end of the line had to say.

 

“Well what do you think?” Murray snapped. “Of course we’re going to sort it out. And you! Don’t fucking move! This isn’t over.”

 

With that he hung up and turned to Padalecki, a grim expression on his face. “Don’t ask how, you don’t wanna know, but the police found the fucking rifle on a routine raid and now it’s in the 7th Precinct.”

 

“Shit!” Padalecki cursed. “How could they be so fucking careless?”

 

Murray scowled. “Fuck if I know, but if the police runs ballistics... Not good, boss, not good at all.”

 

Padalecki ran a hand through his hair. “I know, Chad, but it’s in the 7th. We don’t have anyone inside who could get it out without suspicion.”

 

Collins cleared his throat. Padalecki ignored him and started pacing.

 

Sadie came over to Jensen and pushed her nose into his hand. Jensen started stroking her head and absently wondered if she could still smell the bacon. The rest of the group was watching silently. Collins cleared his throat again, louder this time.

 

“What?” Padalecki snapped. “If you have something to say, spit it out!”

 

“Oh, well, it’s just that there is this thief standing in your backyard. I don’t know, but maybe he could help with this? Just a thought, you know,” Collins said casually. “Besides, your dogs like him. You can’t shoot somebody your dogs like.”

 

Thank god. Jensen was saved. He had no idea what this was about, but if stealing a rifle from an evidence locker could save his life, then he was on board.

 

“He’s right, you know,” he chimed in. “Breaking into an evidence lockup is child’s play for me. And this seems kind of important to you, so how about I help you out with that to start paying off my debt?”

 

For a second Padalecki narrowed his eyes at him, then at Sadie and Jensen feared he’d gone too far but then resignation spread over his face.

 

“Fine. You get your deal.”

 

Jensen smiled his most angelic smile at Padalecki. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me.”

 

Padalecki shot him a death glare. “Wipe that smug smile off your face and get your sweet ass in the house,” he ordered. “And you,” he pointed angrily at the dog, “are a fucking traitorous bitch.”

 

Sadie just got up and followed Jensen into the house. Jensen tried to suppress his smile but from the way Collins winked at him, he probably failed miserably.

 

When they were all in the living room, Padalecki turned to Collins. “Do you still have that bracelet?”

 

Collins grinned like Christmas had come early. “Course, Jared, you don’t give something like that away.”

 

“Good. Get it,” Padalecki ordered.

 

Collins left the room after shooting Jensen a knowing grin.

 

Padalecki was in full mob-boss mode, giving orders while relaxing on the couch. “Abel, call Aldis and tell him to get his ass over here ASAP. Chad, call my father and explain this mess to him. Sam, I need a beer! Now!”

 

The last was shouted and a brunette, older woman appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking at Padalecki with raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t quite get that.”

 

And to Jensen’s surprise, Padalecki took a deep breath as if to relax himself, turned to the woman and said, “Please, Sam, greatest of all women who walk the earth, would you bring me a beer?  _ Now _ ?”

 

Sam opened her mouth, but then her eyes caught on Jensen. She closed her mouth and turned back to Padalecki with a little smirk. “Of course, sir. Anything for your guest too?”

 

Padalecki’s face darkened. “He’s fine.”

 

“I’m sure he is,” the housekeeper said and left the room, still smiling.

 

For a moment, Padalecki’s glare morphed into fondness, but then he turned back to Jensen and his expression hardened. His eyes were glinting with mischief and apprehension spread through Jensen.

 

“Now, where were we?” Padalecki asked, but answered himself. “Right. You’re going to break into the police station for me. 7th precinct to be precise, not their evidence lockup, but the Vice department, and you are going to steal the rifle. Got it?”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” Jensen answered. “I just need to case the place, find a way in and a way out and we’re good. Oh, and of course I need to know where exactly the rifle is stored.”

 

“Aldis will be here soon and he’ll get you all the intel you need. Because you’ll do your casing from here. Now, as for reassurance...”

 

“Reassurance?” Jensen asked.

 

“That you don’t run away,” Padalecki explained. “You don’t think I trust you, do you? Because I have no doubt that given the chance you’d be out of here faster than I can hit on you again.”

 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Jensen grinned at Padalecki. “You are awfully fast.”

 

Padalecki laughed. There was a click and Jensen turned to see Collins standing in the doorway holding up his phone.

 

“Misha, did you just take a picture?” Padalecki asked incredulously.

 

“Yeah. It’s for the slideshow,” Collins answered as if that was the most obvious thing ever.

 

“What slideshow?” Jensen asked.

 

Collins just smiled and held up a thick silver bracelet. “Ta-daaa! This is going to look very pretty on you,” he told Jensen and put the bracelet on his wrist.

 

“Aw, honey, you shouldn’t have. We’ve only known each other for half an hour and already you’re giving me jewelry. I already told you, I’m not that kind of guy.” Jensen waggled his eyebrows at Padalecki. A little bit of flirting never hurt. It was Jensen Campbell's default setting anyway.

 

“But sweetheart, I can’t stand to be away from you,” Padalecki simpered at him. “And with that bracelet I know you won’t go further than two hundred yards, because otherwise it’s gonna go boom.”

 

“Boom?” Jensen asked. That didn’t sound good.

 

Padalecki nodded with an overly sweet smile and Collins repeated happily “Boom!”.

 

“Uh, what kind of boom are we talking here? Boom first degree burns or boom I’m fish food?” Jensen asked, dreading the answer.

 

Collins pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Well, you might survive. If there’s a hospital in the near vicinity. They might even be able to save a bit of your upper arm, two or three inches maybe.”

 

“Great.” This just kept getting better and better.

 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, as long as you stay in the two hundred yard radius nothing bad is gonna happen,” Jared told him, voice dripping with false affection.

 

“And after I’m done you’ll take it off without blowing me up and I get to go on my merry way?”

 

Padalecki nodded. “That’s the deal. You do this for me in reparation for emotional damages caused by you stealing my painting. Without any payment of course. You’ll also tell me why you took this job.”

 

“Of course,” Jensen replied. “That’s only fair. I don’t know what you want me to say about the job, though. Like I told you before, I generally don’t worry that much about who the mark is.” Jensen put on a cocky grin, but he made sure to shift his eyes and twitch his shoulder.

 

Padalecki noticed and shot him a hard glare, one that said this wasn’t over, but didn’t say anything more.

  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

  


“Aldis, Jensen. Jensen, Aldis.”

 

“Nice to meet you, man.” Aldis reached out his hand and Jensen shook it. The guy had a nice grip, firm but not crushing and his smile was open and friendly.

 

He turned back to Padalecki and asked, “So, what’s this about, man? I’m right in the middle of the thing with the guy from the place and the drive.”

 

“Something turned up in police possession that has no business being there. I need it back,” Padalecki said.

 

“What? Are you kidding me?” Aldis gave Padalecki an appalled look. “I thought we had a deal, man. I don’t do any of that illegal shit anymore.”

 

“Aldis—”

 

“I’ll do anything with a computer but no more breaking and entering man, we’re not at Stanford anymore.”

 

Aldis had started to work himself into a frenzy, pacing the living room, gesturing wildly. Padalecki tried unsuccessfully to interrupt him. If Jensen wasn’t still afraid for his life, he would have been laughing.

 

“You want me to steal from the fucking police?”

 

“Aldis, I—”

 

“Man, that’s low. We’re friends!”

 

“ALDIS!” Padalecki’s voice thundered through the room.

 

Aldis stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Padalecki mulishly. “What?”

 

“I don’t want  _ you _ to break into the police department.  _ He’s _ going to do it.” Padalecki pointed at Jensen. “He just needs you for IT support.”

 

Aldis looked over to Jensen and Jensen tried to form a calming expression, nodding his agreement.

 

“Oh, alright then. Sorry, man, you know how I get with cops.” Aldis smiled apologetically at Padalecki who just sighed.

 

“It’s okay, man, let’s just get this show on the road. We don’t have a lot of time. Actually we have no time at all, so you need to get your ass moving right now.”

 

“Yessir!”

 

Padalecki shook his head and went back out on the porch. “And no more funny business, Jensen, or Abel will shoot you!”

  
  
  


Jensen had done some studying between his meetings with Stevie, which had also included reading up on the latest safe models. He needed to be up to par on the latest burglary intel. Unfortunately, keeping up with current safe models was a little bit like keeping up with movies, new ones out every month. Jensen had focused on the blockbusters and hoped it’d be enough.

 

“It’s a Madison AK series, class 2,” Aldis said when they had the blueprints and security details from the precinct up on the screen.

 

Damn. Not unbreakable but very difficult. If it was installed after ‘07 though...

 

“When did they have it installed?”

 

“Seriously, that’s important?”

 

“Yeah. So?

 

“Give me a sec to find the order forms.” Aldis did some more furious typing on his keypad. “There we go. New safe for the Vice department installed January 2008.”

 

“Fuck.” This was bad. Very bad. The ‘08 upgrade was impossible to crack without the right hardware. Then again...

 

“There a problem?” Padalecki stood in the door to the veranda and eyed him with raised eyebrows. Crap. Jensen hadn’t realized he had sworn out loud.

 

“That kinda depends,” he said.

 

“Depends on what?” Padalecki asked, voice hard.

 

“On whether or not I can get my hands on a Barkley MT 500 precision drill.”

 

“And that could be a problem how?” Padalecki asked with a hard voice.

 

Jensen was beginning to understand why no one who worked for the guy even considered ratting him out. Padalecki not only sounded angry and impatient, but the air around him actually seemed to darken.

 

“Well, it’s a rare and expensive piece of hardware,” Jensen said. “And you can’t exactly buy it at Home Depot.”

 

Padalecki eyed him speculatively. “But you could get it?”

 

“Probably, but it’s gonna take at least a couple of days.” The longer Jensen was forced to stay at Padalecki's, the longer he had to seduce the guy without raising too much suspicion. And he wasn’t going to think about the actual seduction part until he absolutely had to.

 

“Not good enough. It’s the weekend now, but the rifle has to disappear before Monday, so you need to do it tomorrow night at the latest.”

 

Jensen dragged a hand through his hair. This was not ideal.

 

Padalecki seemed to interpret Jensen’s reluctance as an indicator that it would still be extremely hard to pull off the job, because he asked, “There’s no other way?”

 

Jensen was almost touched by the consideration in Padalecki's voice.

 

“Well, short of blowing my way in, no. But unless you wanna blow up half of the precinct with the safe, it’s not really an option.”

 

Padalecki liked to keep a low profile. He wouldn’t like this.

 

“Half the precinct?” he asked incredulously.

 

Jensen just nodded.

 

Padalecki turned to Collins. “Misha?”

 

Collins came over and looked at the Madison website Aldis had brought up and went through all the technical data of the safe.

 

“He’s right, Jare. There would be some  _ very _ pretty fireworks, but it would definitely do some damage. It would probably destroy most of the stuff in the safe.”

 

“Not an option then.” Padalecki turned back to Jensen. “You’ll do the break-in tomorrow with the drill.”

 

Jensen suppressed a groan. “Okay. Out of curiosity why not just blow it up?”

 

“Well, Jensen, you said you not only take stuff, you also plant it if the occasion calls for it, correct?”

 

“That’s correct.” Jensen wondered where this was going.

 

“Good. You will break in, take the rifle from the safe and replace it with an identical one that you’re going to bring with you. Then you’re going to take some other evidence someone else might want. No one will suspect that the rifle holds any importance whatsoever and they’ll blame someone else for the break-in.”

 

“Smart.” Jensen was impressed.

 

Padalecki grinned. “I didn’t get where I am today with just my looks.”

 

Jensen couldn’t help but grin back. Padalecki's smile with its damn dimples was infectious.

 

“About that drill.” Jensen almost felt bad when Padalecki stopped smiling and went back to the matters at hand. Fuck. What was wrong with him?

 

“I only know one person in Chicago who could get the damn thing, but it’s not gonna be easy. And you have to pay for it.” Jensen thought of Stevie and how the guy probably wouldn’t piss on him even if he burned, considering he had let Jensen walk into his almost certain execution.

 

“Money is not an issue, but don’t try to rip me off.”

 

When Jensen didn’t move, because he didn’t have a phone to make the call, Padalecki gestured impatiently. “Well, what are you waiting for? Make the call.”

 

Murray obviously realized Jensen’s problem and handed him a phone. Jensen fished his wallet out of his still dripping jeans and hoped the number on Stevie’s card was still readable. Otherwise he was screwed. Again.

 

The contents of his wallet were as wet as the rest of him, but Williams’ card thankfully had survived. He dialed the number while he considered how to get Stevie to get him the drill. When Murray pressed the speaker button, that didn’t make it easier. He just hoped he had played his part at Stevie’s right.

 

He looked around the mobster’s home he was currently in. Well, when in Rome.

 

Williams answered after the third ring. “I don’t know this number, so you better have a good reference.”

 

“Really? But Stevie, we go way back. And after that delicious lasagna I thought we were friends for sure.”

 

“Jensen!” Stevie sounded surprised. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Need another job?”

 

At that Padalecki perked up. He seemed really intent on figuring out why Jensen had taken the job to rob him. Jensen hoped he could leave him in the dark longer than the phone call with Williams would take. Keeping things mysterious and all that.

 

“I actually already got one, which is why I’m calling. I need a special piece of equipment and you’re the only one in this town who can help me get it.”

 

“Well, what’s the job and what do you need?”

 

“The job’s not important. You just need to know that I need a Barkley MT 500 precision drill.”

 

“Tomorrow,” Padalecki mouthed at him.

 

“Tomorrow,” Jensen repeated to Stevie.

 

“A Barkley precision drill for tomorrow? You know I can’t do that. I’m not a wizard, Jensen.”

 

When Jensen looked at Padalecki, the man just raised his eyebrows expectantly. Alright, time to work the magic.

 

“Really Stevie, you won’t help me?”

 

“If you give me five days and eight grand, then yes, I’ll help you, but otherwise my hands are tied.”

 

“Well now Stevie, don’t you think you’re getting a little bit greedy with old age? I won’t pay more than four grand for the drill. And I want it tomorrow.”

 

“Now, don’t get fresh with me, boy.” Stevie’s voice had taken on a hard edge. “That’s the best offer I can give you and you better show me a little more respect or the price goes up.”

 

Jensen wondered fleetingly what had happened to Stevie, the nice guy who always had a story to tell and a solution at hand, but he guessed that sooner or later the lifestyle got to you. Jensen couldn’t dwell on that now. Besides, Williams acting like an asshole made what he was about to do so much easier.

 

“Listen, Williams.” The whole room went quiet when they heard the steel in Jensen’s voice. Good. This show wasn’t just for Stevie. “Do you know who I’m doing this job for? You should, because you were the one who let me walk into his trap.”

 

“What trap? Jensen, I would never—”

 

“Oh, save your hypocritical bullshit for someone who gives a shit. You knew the guy who wanted to hire me knew the target. They knew each other! They both bid on the fucking painting! So you know what happened when I wanted to make the drop? I got picked up by honest-to-god mob goons.”

 

Murray bristled at that and Jensen made an apologetic gesture with his free hand.

 

“And these goons dragged me to see their boss. They put a fucking bag over my head!” Jensen let his voice turn to ice now, so low that Rosenbaum who stood at the other end of the room had to come closer to hear. “The only reason I’m not dead right now is because I was able to offer my services in exchange for walking out of this alive. So you owe me the fucking drill. Because if it hadn’t been for you, I would never be in this mess!”

 

“Oh, come on Jensen, you practically begged me for a job—”

 

“I did not beg!”

 

“Yeah well, you might as well have. I could see how desperate you were for the money. Your time’s running out, boy, and if—”

 

“Enough!” Jensen’s voice thundered through the room. “I’m going to tell you exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t get me the drill tomorrow, you fucking lying piece of shit, so you better listen up.” The whole group was looking at him apprehensively, Padalecki included. Glad that he could provide the entertainment. “If I don’t get the drill, I will ask for half an hour to prepare before my execution and I will use it to call every single contact of mine, every person I have ever worked with, made a deal with, talked to, hell, even chatted with in a bar. And I will all tell them the same thing: Stevie Williams screwed me over. Stevie Williams gave me a bad fix and now I’m gonna die and he knew the risk I was taking, but was blinded by his greed. No one, really no one will ever work with you ever again. No one will trust you or tell you a single thing that’s going on. I will ruin your reputation and you will be blacklisted for the rest of your fucking life.” Jensen paused.

 

Rosenbaum and Collins were watching him with pure joy on their faces, Murray smiled appreciatively and Padalecki… Padalecki looked turned on.

 

Jensen swallowed and concentrated back on his phone call. “When I’m done with my half hour you’ll have nothing left. So, unless you want that to happen, you better get your magic wand out and get me the damn drill by tomorrow.”

 

Silence. Then— “Come by at four. And leave the goons at home.” The line clicked. Stevie had hung up.

 

Jensen balled his hands to fists to keep them from shaking. Fuck. He couldn't believe that had actually worked.

 

Someone let out a low whistle and Murray chuckled out a “well, shit”.

 

Rosenbaum clapped his hands, once and loud. “Look at that. The little kitty-cat burglar has claws.”

 

Jensen could only look at Padalecki, though. The mob boss had fixed his hard gaze on him and Jensen swore he could feel the temperature in the room rise. His body was still rushed with adrenaline and the promise of sex in Padalecki’s eyes didn’t help. He needed to get out.

 

He stood and threw the phone over to Murray. “I’m still dripping pool water on your floor. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower.”

 

Padalecki was still watching him with that piercing stare. “I don’t mind at all. Chad, show our guest the shower.”

 

Murray looked over to his boss and some form of unspoken communication seemed to take place.

 

Jensen had no idea what it was about, but when Murray nodded with a dirty smile and chuckled, “Sure thing, boss.” Jensen didn’t like it at all. But he couldn’t do anything about that, so he followed Murray to the hallway.

 

Murray opened a door in the corridor and pointed inside. “Everything you’re gonna need is in there. Have fun.”

 

He left Jensen standing in the doorway and headed back to the living room.

 

The bathroom was big and tastefully decorated, just like the rest of the house. The shower was stocked with various shower gels and shampoo brands and fluffy white towels were hanging next to it. The perks of staying with a mob boss.

 

Jensen took his time, turned the water as cold as he could bear and waited for his heart to slow down. He refused to analyse the situation, couldn’t afford to stop being Jensen Campbell when he had to go out there again and try to seduce Padalecki. So Jensen focused on the sting of the cold water on the cool tiles under his palms and the pleasant smell of the shower gel.

 

It wasn’t until Jensen stepped out of the shower fifteen minutes later, that he realized he had no clothes to change into. His shirt was still damp, his jeans were sopping wet and both smelled of chlorine. For a moment Jensen thought about what to do, but then he remembered how Padalecki had shamelessly ogled his body under the wet clothes. He definitely wouldn’t mind another show, Jensen was sure of it. He still wasn’t keen on using his body to get into Padalecki's good graces, but this was what it would take to get the job done. There was no time like the present to start.

 

Jensen picked the smaller towel to wrap around his waist, carefully arranged his wet hair in a way that made it look towel-rubbed messy but good, and made his way back to the living room.

 

The conversation died down as soon as they noticed him, all of them looking to Padalecki for cues. Padalecki in turn was staring with concentration into Jensen’s face.

 

No one said anything, so Jensen explained, “My clothes are still wet and smell like chlorine.”

 

He fell silent when Padalecki stood up, eyes fixed on Jensen’s face. Rosenbaum shook his head in a condescending manner and Collins giggled into the bowl of chips on his lap. Murray and the muscle seemed oblivious. Padalecki passed Jensen with a grumbled “Come with me” and Jensen followed Padalecki out into the hallway.

 

Jensen stopped short before they reached the entrance hall. There, on the wall, hung Padalecki’s framed college degree. Bachelor of Economics.

 

When he looked over to Padalecki, he was eyeing Jensen with a defiant expression, daring him to mock him. Whatever he did now, Padalecki was proud of his degree, probably hadn’t even cheated to get it, Jensen was sure of it.

 

“Did you ever think about it?” Jensen asked.

 

Jared tilted his head. “Think about what?”

 

Jensen waved a hand at the framed degree. “This. What you could do with this. With  _ just _ this.”

 

“Did you?” Padalecki asked instead of answering.

 

Well, if you wanted something, you needed to offer up something first. “When I was little I wanted to be an explorer. An adventurer. I wanted to set forth, out into the world, scale the highest mountains, and cross the deepest canyons.”

 

Padalecki grinned. “You’ve come pretty close to that, I’d say.”

 

Jensen gave him his widest grin. “True that. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

 

“The kind of life I was born into, you have two choices. Get in or get out. Since getting out either means dying or traveling halfway across the world…” Padalecki shrugged. “I couldn’t abandon my family.”

 

Jensen nodded. “Don’t forget that you like it.”

 

“Like it?”

 

“Yeah.” Jensen stepped forward, into Padalecki’s personal space. Time to see if he could push a little bit. “You like the power, the control. You get off on it.”

 

“That so?” Padalecki asked with quiet amusement.

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, I’m not blaming you. The rush you get, doing something no one does, because they’re not able to or wouldn’t even dare to… Controlling an uncontrollable situation, setting up the pieces and capturing the king every time—it’s addicting.”

 

They were almost nose to nose and this close, the height difference between them seemed enormous. Jensen had to tilt his head back, felt exposed and vulnerable, and as always, the danger gave him an incomparable rush. Padalecki was looking down at him, eyes hard and breathing shallow. Jensen wasn’t doing much better, the air between them suddenly charged with something heavy. The spell broke when Padalecki pulled back.

 

“I thought you were a thief, not a poet.”

 

Jensen tsked. “Must you cheapen the moment?”

 

Padalecki snorted and turned around, heading towards the stairs. Jensen smiled and followed.

 

According to the reports, none of Padalecki's playmates had ever made it up the stairs, but now he seemed to expect Jensen to follow him. Jensen took it as a good sign. He followed Padalecki up the stairs and Jensen thought he did a pretty good job of not staring at Padalecki’s ass right in front of his face.

  


 

 

  
  
  


After Padalecki had loaned him too-big sweats and a shirt and given him a shameless once over, Padalecki had sent him to one of the guest rooms. But Sam, the housekeeper, told Jensen that dinner would be served in the living room. They were having sandwiches with the game.

 

Padalecki narrowed his eyes at Sam when Jensen followed her into the living room but she ignored him and disappeared into the kitchen. Jensen stood in the door, watching the silent exchange with what he hoped was a curiously amused expression.

 

Eventually Padalecki just let out a snort and focused back on the television. “Scared?”

 

It took Jensen a moment to realize that Padalecki had talked to him.

 

“Cautious,” Jensen shot back. “I like being alive.”

 

“And yet you stole from me.”

 

Jensen shook his head. “Like a dog with a bone.” 

 

Padalecki was sitting on the long arm of the corner sofa, legs casually stretched out in front of him. Jensen sat down in the other corner of the couch, stretching out his own legs insolently towards Padalecki. 

 

Padalecki looked like he was just about to say something, either to protest Jensen’s manners or his accusation, when Padalecki’s dog—the one who had thrown Jensen into the pool, Sadie was her name—jumped on the couch. It took her a while until she had arranged herself comfortably between Jensen’s feet with her nose pressed against Padalecki’s leg, clearly begging for head scratches. 

 

With a sigh, Padalecki reached over and started petting his dog and Sam served them delicious sandwiches cut down into slider-sized bites.

 

At some point during the game, Murray and Rosenbaum joined them, yelling abuse at the screen, and easing the tension. Sadie turned herself around and crawled up Jensen’s leg and he obligingly petted her head. Padalecki got mock-jealous and told Sadie not to get used to Jensen. The dog was unfazed and so was Jensen. He’d caught Padalecki looking more than once and he’d made a point of looking away very slowly with a victorious smile. He was baiting Padalecki but he had a feeling it was the right move. Padalecki wanted the challenge. 

 

All in all it was a pretty good start, but still incredibly nerve wracking. Jensen didn’t know Padalecki and his crew well enough to pick up on all the cues. It felt very much like swimming in the ocean in the dark, never knowing how close the sharks were circling.

 

When the game was over and Jensen could finally go to bed, he thought he’d be asleep in seconds. He was wrong. He kept running through the day over and over again, getting stuck on Padalecki’s dimpled smile and his heated looks. It was good, Jensen told himself, Padalecki needed to be attracted to him. And it would only help for Jensen to return those feelings. Jensen Campbell needed to fall in love with Padalecki and why wouldn't he? Padalecki was attractive and powerful, carrying himself with ease. He ruled his surroundings without effort and cruelty, he was smart and driven—yeah, Campbell would be head over heels. Jensen closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. It was a good thing he shared Campbell’s attraction; it would make things easier.

  
  


Three hours later, Jensen was still tossing and turning in the bed and when the alarm clock on the nightstand said 3:02 am, he finally gave up. He wouldn’t get any proper sleep tonight.

 

With a sigh, Jensen got up. The door to his room was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. He drew a paper clip out of his pants lying over a chair in the corner of the room. The door sprang open after a couple of tries. Quietly he padded into the kitchen and looked through the cupboards for a glass. The amount of kitchen utensils Padalecki had was ridiculous, but most incredibly rich people owned more stuff than they could ever use.

 

He filled his glass with water from the fridge and looked out the window while he drank.

 

The beauty of the clear starry sky and the full moon was lost on him. He still couldn’t believe that everything had worked out. And just because of dumb luck. Jensen shuddered to think what Padalecki would have done to him if the call about the rifle hadn’t come in. He still had no idea what that had been about; there had been no mention in the files of a sniper shooting of any kind, but he doubted that Padalecki would tell him. Not this early on.

 

The key to a successful deep cover was not to push for information too fast. The best way was to wait for the mark to come to you, offer the first piece of information, before you started asking questions. It was completely okay to throw a temper tantrum and demand that the secrecy stop—if you had earned enough trust first. As far as the seduction went—which Padalecki couldn’t notice was going on because he had to think it was his idea to pursue a reluctant Jensen—Jensen felt pretty good.

 

Padalecki was definitely attracted to him in the physical sense. He had stared at Jensen’s body openly ever since the pool incident and during the game he had sneaked enough glances at him and specifically his lips, that Jensen was pretty confident that Padalecki would beat off to fantasies of Jensen’s mouth this morning in the shower. He also seemed impressed by Jensen’s calm, and intrigued by his past. Now Jensen just had to get him to ask him out after tomorrow night, but he had no idea how to do that yet. He was an undercover agent, for fuck’s sake, not an escort. Maybe he could— 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in your room? Your locked room?”

 

At the sound of Padalecki's voice, Jensen spun around. He was startled, his heart was going a mile a minute and again he could deeply empathize with the people who peed their pants when they knew they were on Padalecki’s shit list.

 

He was looming in the doorway of the kitchen, broad shoulders stretching out the thin gray t-shirt he wore. His strong arms were crossed over his chest, making the muscles bulge and he had a look on his face that promised fire and brimstone.

 

Jensen struggled to keep his face relaxed. He was a savvy thief, or rather a savvy FBI agent, and he was not some scared rabbit. Although right now he felt like one. With more confidence than he actually felt he shrugged his shoulders casually.

 

“I was thirsty. And a fifth grader could have opened that door. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to run away with this thing.” For emphasis he held up his right arm and shook it slightly, making Collins’ bracelet move and gleam in the moonlight that filtered in through the kitchen windows.

 

Padalecki didn’t reply, just continued to stare at him, and Jensen took another sip of his water. When he looked up again, Padalecki was suddenly standing only inches from him. Shit. The man moved as quietly as a cat.

 

Very deliberately Padalecki brought his arms up. Jensen thought he was going to touch him, but Padalecki just rested them on the counter beside him, effectively trapping him there. Jensen’s mouth went dry. It had been a while since a guy had towered over him with intent. And right now, it didn’t seem to matter that it was a criminal, the proximity and the promise of something—something dark and hard—was making his heartbeat thump loudly in his own ears.

 

Slowly, Padalecki leaned in and brought his face down to Jensen’s neck. Jensen stood frozen. Padalecki's breath puffed softly against Jensen’s skin and he felt a shudder go through him.

 

“You’re right, you’re not going to run away. Because you want me,” Padalecki murmured against his skin.

 

“No, I don’t. Want you, that is.” Jensen’s first instinct was to stay calm and unaffected but he couldn’t. Padalecki needed to see attraction. So he let his breathing speed up and his mouth fall open. It was easy because this was exactly what would turn Campbell on, dancing around an open flame.

 

“Then why were you just staring so hard at me?”

 

“Because it’s freaking dark in here.” Jensen tried to let some sarcasm bleed into his voice because Campbell was nothing if not contradictory.

 

“And why are you shivering, sweetheart?”

 

“Because it’s also fucking cold in here.”

 

“And why are you hard in your pants?” Padalecki rolled his hips against Jensen’s and he discovered that not only was Padalecki packing a pretty impressive hard-on, he was half hard himself. He hadn’t even noticed but there was no time to analyze his body’s inappropriate reaction to danger. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and it only helped him sell Campbell’s character.

 

“Well, Grandma, you’re a very attractive man and I would have to be blind and without olfactory senses not to react to you, but since I left my little red hood at home the big bad wolf doesn’t get to eat me tonight.”

 

Padalecki straightened up again and his nostrils flared in annoyance. Alright. Enough playing hard to get.

 

Jensen leaned forward in a mirroring move of what Padalecki had just done and brought his head up to the side of his neck. Just like Padalecki, he let his breath flow over the other man’s ear and then slowly nosed his way down his neck, careful to just almost touch. Padalecki sucked in a sharp breath and Jensen had to suppress a grin. Good to know that he could affect him like that.

 

“Now see,” he whispered against Padalecki’s skin. “I told you before, I’m not for rent.”

 

He slowly made his way up Padalecki’s neck again. He chose his next words carefully for maximum impact. “And as long as I’m wearing this bracelet, letting you fuck me would be nothing but spreading my legs like a common whore.”

 

Padalecki whipped his head back. Even in the weak light, Jensen could see his dilated pupils and the way his breathing had sped up. He wasn’t sure which image had gotten to Padalecki so badly, but now seemed like the right time to strike. Jensen leaned back, showing off his hipbones over the low-riding pants and making the shirt stretch tightly across his chest.

 

“Now, if, after the heist tomorrow, you were to let me go, alive and unmaimed of course, and a couple of days later you were to call the phone number that I might give to you and you were to ask me out on a real date, well, then I might just say yes.”

 

Padalecki was still staring intently at him. “You might?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Alright.” Padalecki's reply was so soft, Jensen almost didn’t hear it.

 

Suddenly, Padalecki took two steps back and his demeanor became completely businesslike. The only sign of his arousal was the bulge in his pants. Jensen thought it would have been nice to get a warning about Padalecki being hung like a horse. Not that Jensen minded. Padalecki's voice brought him out of his musings.

 

“You should get some sleep. You have a job to do tomorrow.” With that he turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

 

After Padalecki left, Jensen continued to stand glued to the spot. His body wanted to shake, sink down to the floor, do anything to relieve the tension, but he had a strong suspicion that the whole house was under surveillance. So he kept it together and just shook his head, snorted and dragged a hand through his hair. Slowly he turned back to the kitchen counter and put his glass down.

 

“God, I must be crazy,” he said, to the moon outside the window, speaking clearly for the microphone before making his way back to bed, where he had confusing dreams about strong arms, kitchen counters, talking parrots and his hand being blown off, while Rosenbaum and Collins danced naked around a fire to the sounds of Jefferson Airplane.

  


 

 

 

 

When Jensen woke up the next morning, he felt like a train had run him over and he was sporting impressive morning wood. He was not going to jerk off in Padalecki's guest room, so he made his way down the hall to the bathroom after checking that the coast was clear. He took a short shower and jerked off, even though he was still half asleep.

 

He tried to remember if Jensen Campbell was a morning person, but then decided fuck it. If the plan worked and he was going to share Padalecki's bed for months, it would be way too exhausting to pretend to be chipper every morning. Better show Padalecki early on what he was getting himself into.

 

Jensen knew that there was a flaw in his logic somewhere, probably something about grumpy zombies not being very attractive, but right now he couldn’t be bothered. He’d almost gotten killed yesterday, hadn’t slept more than two consecutive hours and then had the weirdest dreams. He needed coffee. Right the fuck now.

 

Nobody was in the kitchen or the dining room, but there were voices coming from outside. Figured that Padalecki would have breakfast in the garden.

 

When Jensen stumbled out onto the veranda they were all there already, sitting at a table eating and drinking coffee. 

 

Jensen made a beeline for the coffeepot, sat down, snatched up a random cup and poured himself a generous amount before he remembered that Jensen Campbell liked the sweet shit and he looked searchingly around the table. Murray’s head appeared in his line of vision.

 

“Can we help you?” he asked politely. There was possibly a mocking undertone to it, but it was way too early for that shit.

 

“Milk,” Jensen croaked out. “And sugar.”

 

Murray gave him the milk with an amused grin, while Collins handed over the sugar from the other side of the table. Jensen filled his cup with milk until it almost spilled over and then added four cubes of sugar. Because he couldn’t find a spoon he used the next best thing lying around to stir—a butter knife. Finally the procedure was finished and Jensen could drink his coffee. Even though it tasted way too sweet, it was still ambrosia. He moaned appreciatively.

 

When he looked up from his cup, Padalecki was watching him with a broad smirk on his face. “Please tell me you’re this adorable every morning.”

 

Jensen took offense at being called adorable. He was a bad-ass thief. FBI agent. Whatever. “Not like you’re ever gonna find out.”

 

“Oh, burn!” Misha chuckled from the other side of the table.

 

Padalecki narrowed his eyes patronizingly. “Oh, won’t I?”

 

Jensen grumbled and stalked off to the porch swing, where he sat down cross-legged and continued to sip his overly sweet coffee. He tried to figure out if Padalecki's comment meant that he was seriously interested, but gave up quickly. Still too early.

 

After a while Rosenbaum stood up from the table, ambled over to Jensen and joined him on the swing. They sat in a sort of companionable silence, Jensen sipping his coffee and Rosenbaum munching on a Danish.

 

“So, how does one become a master thief?” Rosenbaum asked after a while.

 

Jensen looked over to him. He still wasn’t fully functional so he gave a snappy reply. “So, how does one become a master enforcer?”

 

Rosenbaum just grinned at him. “Oh, that’s easy really. Take a couple of boxing and karate lessons as a kid, lose your parents when you’re thirteen, get bounced around in the foster system for a while and accumulate a healthy disrespect for the authorities. Then do some small-time work with lesser criminals until you stumble across the path of a true mastermind and be forever grateful that he sees something more in you than the rest of world.”

 

Jensen stared at Rosenbaum and he was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. Rosenbaum just stared back. “So, what about becoming a thief?”

 

Jensen closed his mouth, took another sip of his cup and tried to get his background story right. He’d never told anyone the whole thing, just bits here and pieces there, but when he had created Jensen Campbell, he had known every single thing about him. From his favorite stuffed animal (a giraffe called Duffy) to his first kiss (Joey Richards, the pastor’s son) to the day he sent his little sister off to their aunt in Australia (she had to be out of the picture, so that no one would try to find and hurt her).

 

It was cutting it way too close to home (Jensen’s favorite stuffed animal was a zebra called Buffy, his first kiss had been Danny Andrews, the principal’s son, and when he left for college Cat had cried just as hard as he had imagined Kelly Campbell had done when she had left for Australia), but it had only been his second deep cover and the first where he could actually make up his own past. He had chosen the name Jensen, because in the op before that everybody had thought he was half deaf, since he could never get used to reacting to the name Derek. Maybe because of the name, Jensen Campbell had many similarities with Jensen Ackles. In retrospect, it was probably a stupid move.

 

Rosenbaum was still waiting for an answer. And if Jensen wanted to earn their trust, he had to give something up.

 

“My dad died when I was pretty young and my mom didn’t really have good taste in men. There was never any money and when I wanted new clothes or a new toy I had to steal. It got worse over time, so I started stealing more valuable stuff. I didn’t want to get a job, ‘cause I needed all the time to study. I wanted to go to college and, well, stealing and selling stuff is way more time efficient than working the register at the local grocery store. I got pretty good at the whole thing. I wanted to stop in college, but they cut my scholarship after a semester. There was this guy on campus, who knew how to get the big scores. Taught me everything he knew. I never looked back.”

 

Rosenbaum nodded slowly. “Now see, that’s a lie.”

 

An ice-cold fist immediately closed around Jensen’s stomach. There was nothing worse than getting caught telling a lie when trying to gain access to a criminal organization. “What?”

 

“You looked back. You still do, my friend.” Rosenbaum slung an arm around Jensen’s shoulder and pushed the swing into a gentle rhythm. Jensen wanted to sigh with relief.

 

“But see, that’s okay. We all have things to look back to. And it doesn’t make us weak. No, sir. It makes us stronger.”

 

Jensen felt oddly touched by Rosenbaum’s words. He was quiet for a long time, before he stopped the swing, got up and said, “Thanks, man.”

 

Rosenbaum nodded and Jensen made his way back into the house with Padalecki’s eyes burning holes into his back. The bastard had been watching him the whole time.

 

Fuck if he knew what that meant, though.

 

Inside the house it was cool and quiet. Jensen went back to his room. Someone had laid a new change of clothes in roughly his size on the bed and he discovered that his own clothes were gone. Probably in the laundry.

 

Jensen sat down on the bed, taking a breather. Campbell was capricious, but he couldn’t scare Padalecki off before he even developed a serious interest. Jensen knew that Padalecki wanted to sleep with him, but besides his curiosity there was nothing that would give Jensen a permanent spot in Padalecki’s life. 

 

Jensen knew he had to use that somehow, feed Padalecki the information bit by bit, spin a story like Scheherazade to keep him interested long enough. Jensen thought he was getting a pretty good handle on Padalecki, but there was just no guarantee. Padalecki could just fuck him and then discard him and everything would have been for nothing. Fuck.

 

And last night...

 

“Why so gloomy?” Collins was leaning in the doorway, watching him.

 

Jensen was startled again. Shit. He really needed to focus. “No reason. Just tired.”

 

“Liar.” It was the second time in twenty minutes that he was being called a liar. Either he was losing his touch or Padalecki's people were all psychic.

 

“Let me guess. Your highly developed thief morals forbid you from associating with what you think is a common criminal.”

 

“Excuse me?” Jensen blinked at Collins in confusion.

 

“It’s really not that hard to see. The way you’re attracted to him. But you steal art for a living. You despise and fear the likes of us.”

 

“What, no I do—”

 

“No need to lie, Jensen. I get it. You’re a thief. This isn’t your world. But not everything is like it seems.” Collins smiled serenely. “Jared is a man of his word. Whatever he promised you, he will keep it.”

 

“That's not all that reassuring,” Jensen said.

 

Collins cocked his head. “Really? Well, maybe then I overestimated you.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d scare easy,” Collins said with a shrug. “And Jared… I know he has a reputation, but he’s a good man. As long as you don’t cross him of course.”

 

Jensen nodded. “Of course. And what about you?”

 

“Me?” Collins asked dismissively. “I just like to see things blow up. I think it’s beautiful. But Jared is like a brother to me. And I know that with him I can go anywhere. I would follow him anywhere. Now you don’t look look a follower but that’s not a bad thing. Not at all.”

 

Jensen laughed nervously. He couldn’t seem too eager and he had no idea what game Collins was playing here. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Really?”

 

Jensen just looked at him and didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. This was so far out of the realm of the expected, even Campbell would be speechless at Collins’ insinuations. 

 

Collins smiled. “Thought so. If you’re interested, ask around, call your contacts. They’ll tell you how Jared handles his business. He’s made this city a better place.”

 

Jensen made a mental note to find out if that was true. Not that he was on Padalecki’s side, but it was an old argument he’d heard many times. There was no way to extinguish crime, so law enforcement tried to control it. He was surprised Collins brought it up, even knew about it, but if it was true, it would only help sell his decision to be with Padalecki. Not to mention how it would help Jensen come to terms with living with Padalecki if the man was less of a monster than he’d originally thought.

 

“Why don’t you join us in the living room?” Collins asked with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m sure we can find some way to pass the time until you have to go pick up your drill.”

 

 

  
  
  


The security in the police station was good, but not a problem for Jensen. He got in through the ventilation system and then crawled through the sub-ceiling to the Vice department. He took one of the ceiling panels out and jumped down on a desk. The safe was at the far end of the wall, a big thing, about six feet high with double doors. He put his bag on the ground, put on a pair of gloves and got to work.

 

It took some time to drill the hole and disable the locking mechanism but Aldis kept up a constant chatter through the com and it was oddly comforting. When the safe was finally open, he took out the rifle and dismantled it. He put the one he’d brought with him together and put it in the safe exactly like the other one had been. Then he rifled through the contents of the safe in search of something else he could take.

 

“Jackpot.”

 

“Found something good?” Aldis asked in his ear.

 

“Oh, yeah. Very nice.”

 

“Alright, man, then get your ass back to the van.”

 

“On my way.”

 

Jensen took another look at the pictures he’d taken out of the safe. Some seedy-looking rich guy first talking to and then fucking a young prostitute who couldn’t be older than fifteen. She looked a little bit like Cat and Jensen felt rage boiling inside him. He pocketed all the pictures save one which he slipped under a desk, like it had fluttered out of his bag when he made his way out. It might only be one, but it was such a clear shot of the guys face, with the girl lying under him, terror in her young eyes. Yeah, that bastard would still go down.

 

Back in the van he showed Aldis the pictures.

 

“Now, that is just wrong, man. That girl can’t be older than fifteen. Couldn’t you have taken something else?”

 

Jensen grinned at Aldis. “I think one of the pictures might have fallen out of my pocket when I left. Too bad for Mr. Pedophile.”

 

Aldis grinned back at him. “Nice. Yo Clayne, why don’t you get us out of here?” he called to the driver.

 

Clayne started up the van and Jensen leaned back in his seat. That had gone very nicely.

  
  


 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

“So,” Padalecki said, watching Jensen speculatively after everyone had left and they were the only ones left in the living room. “It’s after the heist.”

 

Jensen smiled. “It is.”

 

“You’re not wearing the bracelet anymore.”

 

Jensen raised his now bare wrist. “No, I’m not.”

 

“Chinese sound good?”

 

“Wow, you  _ really _ know how to woo a guy.”

 

Padalecki laughed before stepping right into his space and looking down at him. “Don’t worry, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

 

Jensen forced himself not to step back, hold his ground. “Yeah, I’m still waiting for those. But it’s 2 a.m. now, no idea where you want to pull good Chinese from at this time of night.”

 

Padalecki grinned and walked towards the door. “I’m Jared Padalecki. You really think I can’t get you amazing Chinese in the middle of the night?”

 

Jensen tilted his head, then shrugged and followed Padalecki out the door. He could eat.

  
  
  


Padalecki’s driver Winston took them into the city.

 

“So,” Padalecki asked, “what’s your favorite movie?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we?” And suddenly Padalecki looked like a normal college kid again. Except for the way he sat in the car, all predatory ease, comfortable with his muscles and the gun Jensen was sure he had tucked in the back of his pants.

 

Jensen forced himself to smile invitingly. While Campbell might not like the mob, he certainly wasn’t afraid. Jensen Campbell was never afraid. Jensen held onto that knowledge and leaned in closer to Padalecki.

 

“We are,” he said, “but I didn’t really think we’d do the whole talking, getting to know each other thing, if you know what I mean.”

 

There was no way Padalecki would invite him in if Jensen pushed too hard, so pretending to want a one-night stand was the key.

 

Padalecki just rolled his eyes. “You were the one insisting on more than a quick fuck. So now I’m gonna wine and dine you, deal with it.”

 

Jensen laughed. “Alright then. Well my favorite movie is Once Upon a Time in the West, hands down. The music and cinematography is awesome, and it’s magnificent in the simplicity of the revenge theme.”

 

Padalecki cocked his head. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a western type of guy,” he said, eyes gliding over Jensen’s tight jeans and designer shirt.

 

“I’m not,” Jensen said, “not really. That movie is an exception.”

 

Padalecki nodded. “I love westerns myself. You could say Clint Eastwood is my hero.”

 

“Really?” Jensen raised his eyebrows in pretend disbelief. Of course he knew all about Padalecki’s taste in movies. One of the guys that Padalecki had fucked remembered half the DVD collection he kept in the basement where he’d installed a small home theater, including red cushioned seats. 

 

Padalecki laughed, flashing his dimples, looking entirely too fucking harmless again.

 

“You can fight the good fight from more than one side,” was all he said.

 

Jensen forced himself not to scowl, because how the hell Padalecki could think he was doing anything good was beyond him, but as a thief, Jensen didn’t exactly have a high horse to sit on.

 

“Ah, here we are,” Padalecki said when the car came to a stop.

 

Jensen got out of the car before Padalecki could walk around and open the door for him. They were in a back alley — no surprise, really — and Padalecki knocked on a metal door, said something too low for Jensen to hear when the slit in the door opened, and then they were let inside.

 

“So what is this, some illegal gambling hall? Whorehouse?”

 

Padalecki smiled indulgently. “It’s whatever you need it to be,” he said.

 

Just then a dark-haired young man greeted them. “Mr. Padalecki, so good to see you again.”

 

“Osric,” Padalecki said, “how about a table for two where we won’t be disturbed.”

 

“Of course. Anything else you’d like?”

 

Padalecki shook his head. “I have everything I need for tonight.”

 

Osric looked at Jensen, but to his credit, he didn’t let anything show on his face. Instead he gave a little bow. “Of course, Mr. Padalecki. Whatever you wish.”

 

They walked along a dimly-lit corridor with a giant aquarium along the side, before they went through a heavy curtain and crossed a large room with a bar. Soft Chinese music was playing and a little pond at the far end on the wall provided the soothing sound of running water. The people sitting at the bar and at smaller tables along the walls shot them short glances, but no eyes lingered.

 

Jensen was pretty sure he recognized one guy as an enforcer of one of the local drug runners, and two other guys carried themselves with the posture of police officers. Padalecki nodded to several guys, who respectfully inclined their heads and then Osric led them up a winding staircase and opened a door to a smaller room. It had several occupied booths and he led them to the back of the room. The table almost disappeared in the egg shaped-booth; no one from the outside would be able to see them.

 

When they were seated Padalecki told Osric to bring a little bit of everything and ordered a bottle of red. Just to see how he would react, Jensen ordered himself a bottle of champagne. Osric didn’t bat an eye, just nodded with a friendly smile and disappeared quietly.

 

“What are we celebrating?” Padalecki asked.

 

“Well, I’m celebrating that I’m still alive, but if you’re asking because of the champagne, that’s just my poison of choice.”

 

“You’re quite high-maintenance, aren’t you?” Padalecki asked with a quirk to his lips.

 

Jensen gave him an easy grin. “I like the finer things in life. And it’s not like I can’t afford it. Art pays well.” It couldn't hurt to steer the conversation towards the questions Padalecki most wanted answers to.

 

Padalecki's eyes narrowed. “You can? Williams seemed to imply you’re hard pressed for money right now.”

 

Jensen let a good dose of anger flash over his face before he covered it up with a too-wide grin. “Williams doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

 

“Uh huh.” Clearly, Padalecki was not convinced. Good.

  
  
  


When their food arrived, it really was a little bit of everything. Jensen hadn't realized how hungry he was until now and he dug in. Unsurprisingly, it was delicious.

 

Sometime after they’d finished their first portion of entrées, Padalecki picked up their conversation again, steering it into the lighter topics of movies and books. Jensen drank generously from the champagne—after all, he’d need all the liquid courage in the world to help him relax tonight. He focused on Padalecki’s mouth and his dimples, and let himself be pulled in by the innocent college boy act. When the arousal started to creep in at the sight of Padalecki’s naked arms under rolled-up sleeves after he lost the jacket, or how the hairs on the nape of his neck curled up from the sweat, Jensen let it.

 

Padalecki finished the wine and Jensen finished the champagne. Osric brought them a shot of plum wine and a fortune cookie, but no bill.

 

“Anyone who dares to be, can never be weak,” Padalecki read.

 

Jensen opened his. “‘Do what is right, not what you should.’ Whatever that means.”

  
  
  


They left the restaurant—if you could call it that—without Osric’s guidance. Jensen wasn’t really surprised that he hadn’t seen Padalecki pay—if the whole city belonged to him, then so did this place.

 

Back in the car, the air was thick between them. Jensen leaned back against the window, put as much space as possible between himself and Padalecki, and looked at him. He let his eyes travel up Padalecki’s long legs, taking in how the soft material of the slacks stretched over the hard muscles of his thighs, lingering on the growing bulge, then traveling up over a flat stomach and a strong chest. Th e top button of Padalecki’s shirt was open and a thin sheen of sweat covered his collarbone. Jensen wanted to lick it. W hen he reached Padalecki’s face, the mobster was staring at him hungrily, but just like Jensen, he didn’t make a move.

 

Jensen didn’t know if they were playing chicken or just enjoying the anticipation, but he was caught in a spell of arousal, fear, and booze and he didn’t try to fight it . Now was not the time to think or analyze anymore. Now was the time to let Jensen Campbell take the wheel.

  
  
  


The door had barely closed behind them when Padalecki gripped Jensen’s shoulders and kissed him, hard and without warning. Jensen suppressed his knee-jerk reaction to push him off; instead he forced himself to reach for Padalecki’s shoulders and kissed back.

 

It was instantly hot and messy, Padalecki’s lips greedily sucking on Jensen’s while he walked him through the darkness of the foyer. He steered them into the living room and they started losing their clothes on the way.

 

“Too bad it’s dark,” Padalecki said, “I really wanna know if you have freckles all over.”

 

Jensen snorted, but it got lost in Padalecki’s mouth. Then his back hit what had to be the back of the couch and without a warning, Padalecki twirled him around and bent him over the couch.

 

Jensen's breath left him in a huff, but before he could say anything he heard the snap of a cap. Then two slick fingers pressed against his ass.

 

“Ever heard of foreplay?” he ground out between his teeth.

 

Behind him, Padalecki chuckled low and dark. “Sweetheart, what do you think we’ve been doing ever since you got out of my pool dripping wet? The last few days have been nothing but fucking foreplay. And it’s not like you’re not enjoying this.”

 

Padalecki's hand had come around Jensen's middle and gripped his dick. He was hard and aching and at Padalecki’s touch, he could feel a drop of precome form on the tip.

 

So Jensen decided to go with his persona's need for instant gratification and pushed his ass back against Padalecki’s hand. “Then what are you waiting for?” He couldn’t afford to take a break to think now.

 

Jensen thought he’d get teased again, that Padalecki would go all power play on him, but he just cursed and pushed his fingers into Jensen. The stretch was fast but good and Padalecki’s fingers were long enough to hit where it counted. Padalecki continued to curse under his breath until his fingers withdrew too soon.

 

Jensen could hear the ripping of a condom foil and then there was a hard blunt pressure at his opening. He’d felt Padalecki’s huge dick during their stumble through the house so he exhaled when Padalecki pushed in, but holy shit, it had been a while.

 

Padalecki didn’t give him a moment to catch his breath, fucked him hard and fast, and Jensen struggled to get his hands on the couch to get some leverage.

 

Now that they’d gotten to the actual fucking Padalecki was quiet, the only sounds their hard breathing and the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh. Jensen pushed back in sync with him, reveling in the deep strokes and Padalecki’s hands digging bruises into his hips—he had a hunch he’d enjoy seeing them there the next morning—and then Padalecki adjusted his stance and nailed Jensen’s prostate dead on.

 

Jensen was wound so tight, he almost screamed, orgasm hitting him out of nowhere, and Padalecki grunted and followed him after a few vicious thrusts.

 

It took Jensen a while to catch his breath, high on booze and adrenaline and endorphins, so he almost missed when Padalecki stepped back. Jensen looked over his shoulder, saw Padalecki pulling up his pants and giving him a smirk.

 

“Thanks for a nice date.”

 

Then he turned around and walked towards the foyer. Jensen wasn’t surprised, but he was pissed. Well, Jensen Campbell was pissed. Because being left hanging over a couch? Granted, he’d just had one of the top ten orgasms in his life, but still. The guy had no manners.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

 

Padalecki turned around and shrugged his shoulders, not at all apologetic. “I don’t know what you were expecting, but I don’t just invite anyone into my bed.”

 

Jensen snorted. “As if I want to share a bed with your sweaty ass. Doesn’t mean you can’t have some fucking manners.” He fished his cell phone out of his pants and called a cab service.

 

It was a gamble, but Padalecki needed to know right from the start that Jensen wouldn’t be one of his cheap fucks, only to be tossed aside when they were done.

 

“Yeah, hi. I need a cab to—” He didn’t get further because Padalecki ripped the phone out of his hand and ended the call.

 

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said with an eyeroll.

 

“And you’re a Neanderthal.”

 

They glared at each other for a moment, then Padalecki shook his head with a smile, went over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of whisky.

 

“So your momma did teach you some manners,” Jensen remarked, watching to see if Padalecki took the bait. He did.

 

Padalecki tried to hide the flash of pain across his face, but Jensen was looking for it, so he noticed it. No one knew exactly how his mother had died, but after fifteen years, the pain was obviously still there.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Jensen stepped up to Padalecki, carefully pried one of the glasses out of his tight grip and took a drink. There were theories about what had happened back then and Jensen took another gamble.

 

“The Club’s no fun, is it?”

 

“What club?”

 

“The I Watched My Parent Get Killed Club.”

 

Padalecki’s back stiffened almost imperceptibly. Jackpot.

 

Jensen slowly walked over to the couch and sat down. “My dad got shot when I was eight. Gambling debt.” He didn’t dare look up to Padalecki so he stared into his glass as he spun his tale. “Usually the bookie only broke fingers or legs, but I guess it was just one too many times. They didn’t even know I was there, though I doubt it would’ve made a difference.” He fell silent and emptied his glass. He couldn’t oversell this. “He wasn’t a good father, always either drunk or broke or both, but he was still my dad, you know?”

 

Padalecki didn’t reply for a long time, before he finally said, “I’m not the sharing type of guy.”

 

“And I didn’t ask you to,” Jensen shot back.

 

There was another silence, then Padalecki refilled their glasses and sat down next to him.

 

“Since you’re in Chicago now,” he said abruptly, “Cubs or White Sox?”

 

“Neither,” Jensen answered. “Red Sox. Always had a thing for the underdog.”

 

“Sam Tivo-ed the evening round of the games for me.”

 

Jensen knew it was some kind of peace offering and he would take it. “Hit it,” he said and in the darkness of the living room Padalecki grinned at him as if nothing had happened and turned on the TV.

 

Alcohol and exhaustion were weighing Jensen’s body down heavily and he fell asleep to the blur of baseball. At one point he thought he felt someone kiss his forehead before he drifted off again. He woke up when the sun was rising, no sight of Padalecki, but a blanket was covering him. Jensen got up sluggishly and stumbled into his room where he shucked his clothes, still sticky with come. He didn’t bother cleaning up; he needed more unconsciousness. Thanks to his fucked-out state and the alcohol still in his system he fell asleep immediately.

  
  


 

 

  
  
  


Jensen woke up because hands were trailing over his back. He tried to flip himself around but whoever it was had expected it.

 

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” a smooth voice said and Jensen forced himself to relax into the pillows despite his heart hammering away in his chest.

 

"Too fucking early, Padalecki," he murmured.

 

"After having my dick in your ass, I think it's only appropriate if you call me Jared."

 

"Too fucking early, Jared," Jensen said, but Padalecki only chuckled.

 

"Adorable."

 

Jensen wanted to bristle, but really that would take way too much effort. Then the feeling of Padalecki's hands registered again, trailing over his back.

 

"You really do have freckles everywhere."

 

Jensen wanted to roll his eyes, but since Padalecki wouldn't be able to see it, it'd be a waste of energy, so he just grumbled.

 

“Like a grouchy little cat,” Padalecki said and his hands cupped Jensen's ass, before a finger dipped between his cheeks. “And still wet from last night.”

 

Jensen spread his legs and let out a contented sigh when Padalecki started opening him up. Padalecki wanted a cat? Jensen could do that.

 

“Pretty kitty,” Padalecki murmured against the skin of his shoulder and Jensen reached back to hit him.

 

“Hey,” he said but it was half-hearted.

 

Padalecki just laughed and lightly bit into his neck. “Behave,” he said.

 

“What’s in it for me?” Jensen asked.

 

Padalecki answered by spreading his legs wider and pushing inside in one smooth move.

 

"Okay then," Jensen said and relaxed again. Behind him Padalecki laughed quietly, vibrations shaking his body while he languidly fucked in and out of Jensen. He didn’t know how long they moved like that, slow and thorough, Padalecki's lips and teeth on the back of his neck the whole time until he finally picked up speed, again finding Jensen's sweet spot unerringly, and together with the friction of the mattress against his cock it was enough to make him come.

 

Padalecki pushed in a few more times before he tensed and stilled.

 

“That’s a nice wake up call,” Jensen said and yawned. “Now I only need coffee.”

 

“We’re having breakfast outside again,” Padalecki said, got up and left without another word.

 

Jensen kept lying in bed for a few moments longer, before he rolled himself out and stumbled into the bathroom. In the mirror he examined the marks Padalecki had left, finger-shaped bruises on his hips and red spots—half love bite, half hickey—all over the back of his neck.

 

The face in the mirror had circles under its eyes, but it was still his face. Jensen wondered if he’d expected someone different to look back at him.

 

After a long shower under a too-hot spray he slipped into his clothes from the day before again and really, he needed to get himself something new to wear. A plan formed in his mind and he thought since Padalecki had decided to fuck him again this morning, it might just work. Jensen wasn’t vain per se, but Jensen Campbell wasn’t only a pretty piece of ass, he was also an intriguing character. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Padalecki wanted him to stick around. Especially after the explicit invitation to call him by his first name. Jared. Jensen would have to get used to that.

  
  
  


When he plopped down at the breakfast table next to Jared, Murray and Collins smirked at him, but Jensen took it in stride.

 

“You need to take me shopping,” he said to Jared and poured himself a generous cup of coffee.

 

Jared looked up from his newspaper. “And why is that?”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, these are the only clothes I have here.”

 

“What, you don’t have any clothes at your place?” Murray asked, but Jensen ignored him, just stared at Jared with raised eyebrows. If he said yes now…

 

Jared huffed. “Fine. But five stores max, I don't want this to turn into a  _ Sex and the City  _ episode.”

 

Jensen refrained from doing a fist pump, instead he scoffed and reached for a croissant. “Beauty takes time,” was all he said and Jared groaned theatrically.

  
  
  


Most of the day was made up of friendly teasing occasionally veering into heavy flirting. Jensen was shocked how easily he fell into banter with Jared, how simple it was to talk to him and flirt with him. In another life, Jensen thought ruefully, he would’ve really genuinely liked the guy. Because really, he was smart and funny, using dimples and sparkling eyes as weapons on their own, charming shopkeepers and waiters throughout the day, even though he didn’t need to.

 

After several designer stores—and luckily Jared insisted on paying; Jensen’s FBI funded credit card would never have allowed him all those purchases—Jared dragged him to a tailor.

 

“I’m not really a suit guy,” Jensen tried to protest, because that felt too close to dressing as a g-man, but Jared insisted.

 

For some reason Jensen just knew, he needed to avoid this, needed to keep the gap between Jensen Ackles and Jensen Campbell as wide as possible. His personalities always merged during an undercover stint, his cover personality encroaching on his own. If he were in Hollywood he’d call himself a method actor. It was what made him so good, but the closer the cover was to his true self, the more dangerous it got. Jensen Campbell had always been too much like him, a mistake he’d vowed to never make again. Now that he was here, he needed to keep the barrier up.

 

“You know who really needs a new suit?” he asked. “Your boy Clif here.”

 

Jared’s muscle had been following them around like a bad dressed silent shadow the whole day.

 

“Really, a man of your standing, and your bodyguard dresses like a JC Penney mannequin. It’s a disgrace.”

 

Clif scowled while Jared pensively looked him up and down. The tailor jumped to Jensen’s aid, scornfully taking in Clif’s outfit.

 

“He’s right, Mr. Padalecki,” he said in a slightly nasal voice and a posh British accent. “Your man could indeed do with a few new garments.”

 

“Alright, Robert,” Jared said, “do your thing.”

 

Jensen watched in glee as Clif was ushered to the middle of the room, measured against his protests and then sent of to the dressing room with an armful of clothes.

 

Afterwards they had dinner at a small, intimate Italian restaurant. It had mob business plastered all over it, but despite Jared’s evisceration of the Italian mob, the smiles he received from the owner and the servers were genuine. But then again, Jared just had something about him that drew people in.

 

Their evening went much like their day, Jared trying to fish for information between flirty banter and Jensen doing his best to be coy without being stand-offish. It was nerve-wracking, having to play off a script he was writing as he was going along and it gave him a thrill he hadn’t had in a long time. Not that his last assignments hadn’t been dangerous, but they’d been much more straightforward.

 

Like the night before, Jensen drank generously. Jared had ordered a bottle of champagne for him and Jensen had ordered himself an aperitif, glaring at Jared with a half smile.

 

“I’m really not a fan of the the whole you ordering for me.”

 

Jared just grinned unrepentantly. “I’m paying, so suck it up. Or you wanna get the bill?”

 

Since Jensen Campbell was flat broke, he just rolled his eyes and reached for a bread roll.

 

Jared scrutinized him for a moment, obviously wanting to push for more, but then let it drop.

 

Dinner again was delicious and Jensen played up the drunk part more than he wa s. After keeping Jared at arm’s length the whole day, he needed to give him more incentive to want him around.  In the car, he cozied up to Jared, let his hands explore and his mouth trace random patterns over Jared’s neck and his chest where he’d opened his shirt.

 

Jared leaned back and let him, breath speeding up and hands gripping Jensen’s short hair.

 

When they reached the house, again they stumbled through the dark foyer, but this time Jensen led and pushed Jared down on the couch. He hadn’t done this in a while, but he’d been told he was good at it and Jared had been staring at his mouth an awful lot, so Jensen was sure he’d appreciate it.

 

Smoothly he got down on his knees, opened Jared’s pants and got his dick out.

 

“Fuck, yeah.” Jared’s voice was rough, and Jensen swallowed him down.

 

He was blowing a mob boss, going down voluntarily on his knees for one of the most powerful criminals he’d ever met, a man that had murdered and ordered others to murder, but he couldn’t think about that, he had to enjoy this.

 

Jensen let himself fall into the sensation, into the feel of Jared hard and heavy on his tongue, into his musky day’s-end scent. Jared gripped Jensen’s hair tight, but didn’t pull it, and his breathing was labored, letting out the occasional “fuck” and “look at you”, “your goddamn mouth” and “so pretty”.

 

Campbell would be smug from all the praise, get off on it, so Jensen focused on that, pushed his hips forwards, feeling the drag of his chubbing dick against the denim of his pants.

 

Jared moaned louder. “Shit, so eager. So fucking pretty.”

 

Jensen took him down deeper, eyes burning and gag reflex kicking in, but he ignored it, breathed through it and swallowed Jared down. He was using one hand to steady himself on Jared’s thigh, but with the other he fumbled his pants open and began working his dick through his boxers. He was so close already he wouldn’t take long.

 

“Goddamn, Jesus fuck…” Jared trailed off, babbling nonsense and Jensen wondered distantly if he’d never gotten good head, but then the hands in his hair clenched and without warning Jared shot into his mouth.

 

Jensen twisted his wrist, came all over himself and even though swallowing was right there on the edge of his mind, he had retained some of his brain cells. He turned his head to the side and spat Jared’s come all over his couch table.

 

“Next time, warn a guy,” he said and Jared just raised a lazy eyebrow.

 

“Thought you were gonna be a good boy and swallow. Looked like you liked it well enough.”

 

Jensen quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Not enough to risk catching whatever you have.”

 

Jared’s eyebrows shot up incredulously.

 

“What? I know the stories. You get around.”

 

“Are you calling me a slut?” Jared asked, sounding almost amused.

 

Jensen stood, zipped himself up and shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

 

Jared laughed and shook his head. “You know, you’re something else.”

 

Jensen flashed his trademark smug-master-thief smile and saw a warring in Jared's eyes, saw him hesitating and thinking about drawing Jensen in. For another round or a trip upstairs, Jensen didn’t know, but he decided to save himself from a possible no. Better to leave before Jared came to a decision.

 

He leaned forward, kissed Jared short and hard, murmured a “good night” against his lips and then walked out of the living room. Jensen fucking Campbell would not stand around and wait for a guy to make a decision about their sleeping arrangements.

  
  


 

 

  
  
  


Jensen was having a really nice dream. He was lying in fluffy clouds and someone was sucking his dick. Oh yeah. He let his hand glide down, fingers sliding in a thick mop of hair that felt really fucking real for a dream, and holy shit maybe not a dream.

 

He blinked his eyes open and looked down to see Jared lying between his legs, mouth closed around the tip of his dick and still somehow managing a smirk. Jensen decided it was in the tilt of his eyes.

 

Jensen let himself fall into the pillow and Jared went back to sucking his dick. Jensen hadn’t thought Jared would be the type to do that, but apparently he was, because he was good. He sucked just right, hands rubbing over Jensen's balls, then pushing his legs apart and sliding his fingers up his ass, two of them, already lubed, slipped inside. Jensen didn’t have a chance in hell of dragging this out.

 

He was close, wanted to tap on Jared’s shoulder on instinct, but then he remembered last night and decided to be an ass himself. Unfortunately Jared saw it coming, pulled off and jacked Jensen with steady strokes while his long fingers massaged his prostate.

 

Jensen threw his head back and came hard, distantly hearing Jared murmur something that sounded like “So fucking beautiful,” and then he was turned around, Jared manhandling him like a rag doll, and he sure felt like one, boneless as he was.

 

Jared pushed in and fucked him deep and hard. Jensen didn’t really get hard again, but he still enjoyed the friction.

 

“I could get used to this,” he said afterwards, when they were both lying in bed, breathing heavily.

 

Jared laughed, said something too quiet to hear. Jensen only caught “that’s the plan” and stupidly thought, holy fuck, it actually worked.

 

He got up with a grin, shook his ass at Jared who whistled appreciatively and headed into the shower. The water had just turned warm when Jared joined him.

 

“Remembered how pretty you are when you’re wet,” he said as way of an explanation before pressing Jensen against the cool tiles, nudging his legs apart and then sliding in. Pressed against the shower wall, it finally occurred to Jensen that Jared had a thing about not doing it face-to-face. It didn’t stop Jensen from coming again when Jared pounded his ass, but it did make him wonder. 

 

Jared stayed in the shower to wash his hair, but left Jensen to get dressed alone.

  


 

 

  
  
  


Murray let out a catcall when Jensen finally came out on the porch for breakfast. “You must have done something wrong, boss, kitty here can still walk.”

 

Jared shot Murray a dark glare and said, “Watch it,” but Murray only laughed.

 

Murray and Jared were the only ones sitting at the table on the porch, Clif standing a few feet off in his new suit.

 

“Looking good, Clif,” Jensen mumbled in his direction, before he plopped down at the table, poured himself a cup of coffee and ignored Murray in favor of inhaling caffeinated ambrosia.

 

“So, what are we doing today?” Jared asked after a while.

 

When Jensen looked up, he saw that Jared was looking expectantly at him. After Jared had left him in the bathroom, Jensen had decided how he was going to play this, so now he replied as nonchalantly as he could: “Well, I don’t know what you are doing today, but I’m going to get on a plane.”

 

Jared tilted his head. “A plane to where?”

 

“Really?” Jensen raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

 

Jared huffed. “Alright, fair enough. Why are you getting on a plane, then?”

 

“Why does one get on a plane? There aren’t that many reasons and since I don’t plan on stealing it, it should be pretty obvious?”

 

“Yes, but why?” Jared pressed.

 

“Because of a job, Jared. I have to work for my money, you know.”

 

“You really don’t.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“If you stay, you don’t need money. I have more than enough.” Jared waved his hand in the general direction of the house. “Stay with me. Take a vacation. I hear Chicago’s got a great art museum. I can show you around.”

 

Jensen sighed exasperatedly. “Jared, I’m not going to stay here as your kept boy. I have my own life. And if a good job comes up I can’t pass up on that.”

 

“Ah, well, it was worth a try. When will you be back then?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“What do you mean, you don’t know? A couple of days? A week? Two? I would think you'd know how long a job is going to take.”

 

So Jared really wanted him to come back. Jensen smiled inwardly. But how did that old saying go? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

 

“I know how long the job is going to take. I just don’t know when I’ll be back in Chicago.”

 

At that, Jared just stared at him.

 

“Aaaaand that’s my cue to leave,” Murray said. “Jensen, good to see you again, until next time.”

 

“Yeah, you too.”

 

Murray got up from the the table and walked to the door. Just when he was about to open it, Rosenbaum came out.

 

“Rosey! Good to see you again.” Murray’s greeting sounded so overly cheerful Jensen cringed. “Listen man, there’s something I need to show you inside, you won’t believe—”

 

The door closed behind them and Jensen turned back to Jared who was still watching him with a tight expression. It made Jensen uncomfortable.

 

“Look, Jared, this was a great weekend. Apart from when you threatened to kill me, I really had a great time. But I need to work.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t come back,” Jared pointed out.

 

“Yes, it does,” Jensen said. “This, between us, was never going to be more than a weekend fuck and you know it.”

 

“Is this about you sleeping in the guest room? Because if it is, I—”

 

Jensen cut Jared off before he could start an emotional conversation they weren’t yet ready for.

 

“No, this is not about the guest room.” Of course it was. For Jensen Campbell it was at least a little bit and Jared needed to realize that, because Jensen needed to sleep in Jared's bed if this had any chance of becoming a long-term thing.

 

“Then why?” Jared asked, a sharp and demanding edge to his voice. Jensen hoped Jared was using it to hide his disappointment.

 

Jensen rubbed his neck. Jared needed to see his reluctance, how hard it was for him to leave.

 

“Because this isn’t good.” Jared’s face darkened and Jensen waved him off. “Not the sex. That’s obviously mind-blowing. But me being here isn’t good.”

 

A shadow passed over Jared’s face, but then it was gone and he grinned smugly at Jensen. “So you’re saying I’m mind-blowing in bed?”

 

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go pack.”

 

Jared was serious again. “Winston is going to drive you.”

 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m calling a cab.”

 

When Jensen was ready to leave, Jared stood by the door, waiting for him. Good. Jensen needed to make this an unforgettable goodbye.

 

Jared opened the door for him. The cab was already waiting.

 

Jensen turned to Jared. “Well, this was fun.”

 

“Call when you’re in town again.”

 

Jensen let a slow sultry smile spread over his face and stepped closer. Jared’s eyes widened and Jensen could see his pupils dilate in the tell-tale sign of arousal. He fisted his free hand in Jared's shirt, leaned up, and kissed him hard. Jared responded instantly, opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with Jensen’s. The kiss seemed to go on forever and by the end Jensen had to physically tear himself away from Jared. They were both breathing heavily.

 

“Goodbye, Jared.”

 

He turned around and walked to the cab with a little bit more swagger in his hips than strictly necessary. He could still feel Jared's gaze burning into him when the cab drove away.

  
  


 

 

  
  
  


Jensen cleared out his crappy-in-a-nice-neighborhood-rent-by-the-week apartment. He took another cab to the airport and then boarded a plane to San Francisco. He had the feeling of being watched the whole time at the airport, but he didn't spot a familiar or suspicious face. Maybe it was just paranoia.

 

In San Francisco he checked into another crappy apartment and went out to buy a disposable cell phone. Time to finally call Morgan.

 

There wasn’t much he could tell him. Morgan knew nothing about the rifle but promised a thorough and completely off-the-books investigation. He also gave Jensen all the relevant info he needed to break into Amanda Tapping’s mansion.

 

She was one of the big players in the Bay Area when it came to the import/export business and it was rumored she had a beef with Jared. If Jensen were to accidentally stumble onto information valuable to Jared while he was relieving her of some of her fine jewelry, well that would just be a nice coincidence, nudging Campbell back in Jared’s direction.

 

Even though it had only been little more than a week, Jensen was already so deep into Campbell’s persona, he had no trouble finding the excitement and the buzz from planning a heist. It wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t a challenge to break into Tapping’s house while she was out for a charity ball. In the safe he not only found her jewellery but also a manila folder with surveillance pics and blueprints. Jensen recognized them immediately—they were of Jared’s house. She was planning an attack on his home base. Jensen couldn’t believe his luck.

 

While it might be nice for the Bureau if she succeeded, they couldn’t really rely on that and it wouldn’t help them bring down the organization. So Jensen took pictures of the folder—Tapping didn’t need to know Jared knew she was coming—pocketed the jewels and left her mansion as quietly as he had come.

 

After another call on another burner phone to Morgan, Jensen sold the jewels to someone they suspected had a lose connection to Jared, and got on a plane back to Chicago. He’d only been gone for five days when he took a cab out to Jared’s compound and told the guy at the intercom to let him in. He didn’t have to wait long.

Jared was outside, lying by the pool. He was wearing a truly horrendous pair of boardshorts with a flower pattern, an open white shirt and dark aviators. He looked hotter than ever.

 

Clif was there, as always a silent presence, standing in the tree’s shadow, only now he was wearing a well-fitted suit.

 

Jensen nodded to him with a smirk, but Clif’s stony expression didn’t change.

 

Jared slowly moved his glasses up. “Back so soon?” he asked, definitely smug.

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “I was in the mood for a swim.” Then he took off his clothes, not putting on a show but slow enough to give Jared time to watch. With a short glance at Clif, Jensen left his boxer briefs on and made a header into the pool.

 

The water was cool and refreshing and Jensen swam under the surface as long as he could hold his breath. Jared’s pool was long enough to swim actual laps, at least twenty-five yards. He shot a short glance to Jared when he came up for air. Jared had his sunglasses back down again, but Jensen was sure he was being watched. So Jensen swam his laps, focusing on the simple motions of it and the burning in his lungs. His next move was crucial; he couldn’t afford any missteps now and he really needed to get his erratic heartbeat under control.

 

Now that he was back with Jared, he had to get into the headspace of an infatuated thief again. He tried not to think about how easy it was. When Jensen looked up the next time, Jared was standing at the edge of the pool minus his shirt and sunglasses and Clif was gone.

 

Jensen tread water and smiled invitingly.

 

Jared dove headfirst into the pool, swam underwater and didn’t emerge until he reached Jensen, pulling him in while bursting through the surface.

 

“I knew you’d miss me,” Jared said and kissed him.

 

Jared was hot and solid in the cool water and Jensen wrapped his legs around him, deciding to think about the important things after Jensen Campbell had gotten his fix. They kissed and touched, Jared crowding against him until Jensen’s back bumped against the pool wall. Jared gripped his hips and spun him around.

 

“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” Jared mumbled, biting at his neck, while he pulled Jensen’s briefs down.

 

Jensen gripped the edge of the pool and put his toes on an underwater ledge for leverage. It wasn’t ideal, but when Jared’s hot dick nudged between his legs, rubbing against his perineum and pushing against his balls, he didn’t care. It felt fucking good and when Jared reached around to stroke him quick and tight, Jensen moaned and let go.

 

After, they laughed, Jensen splashed water in Jared’s face, and Jared dunked him until Jensen pinched his ass and weaseled out of his grip. Jared reached for him and drew him in again.

 

“You’re gonna admit it?”

 

“Admit what?” Jensen asked.

 

Jared grinned. “That you missed me.”

 

“Don’t get cocky,” Jensen said, pulling out of his grasp, swimming to the edge and climbing out.

 

Jared followed him, eyebrows quirked in disbelief, smile playing on his wide lips.

 

“I just don’t want you to get killed, that’s all,” Jensen said offhandedly.

 

“And why would I get killed?”

 

Jensen sighed, grabbed a towel from one of the loungers and walked over to his clothes. He fished the big manila envelope out of his messenger bag and threw it onto the table.

 

Jared eyed him warily, but opened it. Confusion flashed over his face, then he spread out the copies Jensen had printed out for better effect, watching them with dawning comprehension.

 

“Where did you get these?”

 

Jensen rubbed the towel over his hair. “I worked a job in San Francisco. I only expected jewelry in the safe, but when I saw a bunch of files… well, I couldn’t not look. Imagine my surprise when I recognized the building on the blueprints.”

 

“San Francisco?” Jared asked.

 

Jensen nodded. “Tapping is her name.”

 

Jared’s mouth set in a grim line, and Jensen was once again harshly reminded that Jared wasn’t the nice college kid he so often looked like.

 

Jared reached for his phone and hit number one on his speed dial.

 

“Chad, get your ass over here,” he said after a few moments had passed. “I don’t care if you’re sticking your dick into Angelina Jolie, we have a situation.”

 

“Cockblocking Chad? Now that’s not nice,” Jensen said with a laugh.

 

Jared’s head snapped around, eyeing him critically. “So, what do you want for it?”

 

“What do I want for what?” Jensen asked.

 

Jared help up the envelope. “What do you want for the info? Nothing is for free.”

 

Jensen pretended to ponder the question for a moment. In reality it was only a choice of cuisine. “I’m really in the mood for some good Indian food.”

 

“Dinner? You don’t want money?”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “I told you, I won’t be your kept boy. No money for service. Of any kind. Dinner is... dinner.”

 

Jared still looked skeptical, and Jensen wondered how much he’d asked around. Had Jared found out about the debt he owed? He might have to prod Collins for information later. The guy was creepy as fuck, but seemed in favor of their relationship.

 

The crisis talk went on forever. Jensen hadn’t been invited, which was to be expected. He passed the time by taking the dogs out into the garden and throwing tennis balls for them. By the time Jared finally came out of the house, Jensen was starving.

 

“Can we go eat?” he asked, letting his voice be snappish. Jensen Campbell was not someone you left waiting.

 

Jared just gave an indulgent smile and made an exaggerated bow. “After you, Princess.”

 

“You keep calling me that, I’m gonna snap on a chastity belt.”

 

Jared choked out a laugh and followed him through the house, and out the front door where Winston was already waiting with a car. It wasn’t the usual Mercedes, but a large SUV with dark tinted windows.

 

“I see you’re taking precautions,” Jensen commented.

 

Jared opened the door for him. “Can’t be too careful.”

 

Dinner was once again delicious.

 

“You really know all the best places in town, do you?” Jensen asked, stuffing his mouth with the best chicken marsala he’d ever had, while drinking what he had decided would be his trademark bottle of champagne.

 

“Well, it’s my town,” Jared declared casually, like he was telling Jensen about the pool in his backyard.

 

“That’s a really bad western cliché,” Jensen said.

 

Jared grinned, flashing his dimples. “Doesn’t make it untrue.”

 

Jensen rolled his eyes and emptied his glass. Jared, the gentleman, refilled it and Jensen rolled his eyes again, before putting on a more sombre expression. Time to find out how much Jared was willing to share.

 

“So,” he started casually, “what did you decide to do about your little… problem?”

 

“Now that I know about it, it won’t be more than a minor inconvenience. Not that they would’ve had a real shot either way. But like this… child’s play.”

 

“Don’t underestimate her. I heard nasty things about her.”

 

This time it was Jared who rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, kitten, I know her too. They planned the thing for Wednesday, enough time to set up a trap of my own.”

 

Jensen glared at Jared for being dismissed like some boy toy. “Well, she’ll notice her jewelry is gone. And she’s smart enough to be concerned for the information in the safe. What if she changes the plan or moves it up?”

 

“Like I said, we have it all under control.” And then he ordered another bottle of champagne.

 

And while Campbell was pissed, he did like the booze, so he let Jared fill his glass again.

“Be glad you’re so hot,” he grumbled and Jared laughed.

Jensen didn’t need to pretend to be tipsy when they left the restaurant. Two bottles of champagne were enough to do that to him. Time had flown by and they had been the only ones in the restaurant for a while now. The only thing keeping the owner from throwing them out had been Jared’s name. But even in his fuzzy state, Jensen realized that Jared thought he was an endearing drunk, so he decided to give himself over to Campbell’s instant gratification persona.

 

“Frozen yogurt.”

 

“What?” Jared looked at him with a bemused expression.

 

“I want frozen yogurt,” Jensen said. “With raspberries and boysenberries and chocolate sprinkles.”

 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Jared said, walking towards the car. Jensen stood his ground. He wanted to see how far Jared would go for him.

 

Jensen crossed his arms over his chest, swaying slightly. “So?” He pouted. “You said you own this town. Don’t tell me you can’t get me frozen yogurt at—” Jensen fished his phone out of his pocket, “ten past three.”

 

Jared gave him an annoyed look. “Of course I could. Probably. But since I’ve never been to a frozen yogurt place and—”

 

“Oh, my god,” Jensen cut him off, stumbling over to him and hugging him. “You can’t go through your life without frozen yogurt.”

 

“Jensen, you’re drunk.”

 

“Jared, I want frozen yogurt. So do you. Now.”

 

Jensen was pretty sure he was whining at the end. Jared glared for a moment longer, then he sighed and reached for his phone.

 

“Misha, hey. Tell me you know a frozen yogurt place in this town, and who to call so I can get Jensen some.”

 

Jensen smiled and pressed a sloppy kiss to Jared’s check. “There’s more booze in the car, yes?”

 

Jared groaned theatrically.

 

An hour later, they left the befuddled and slightly scared owner of Berry Hat in his store. Jensen spotted Jared leaving a hundred dollar tip and cooed at him.

 

“You’re such a big softy.”

 

Jared snorted. “Not really. But I have a feeling you might want to come back here, so it can’t hurt to have him on our good side.”

 

“Good thinking,” Jensen said and climbed into the car. “Now, on with the night’s program.”

 

Jared looked confused and Jensen himself wasn’t really sure what that meant, except for how Campbell had been horny since the start of the second bottle, and being horny clearly meant getting his hands on Jared’s dick. And his mouth. Yeah, blowing Jared in the car was an excellent idea. From the way he was moaning, Jared definitely agreed.

 

Jensen still didn’t swallow, spitting onto a tissue instead and Jared gave an exasperated snort.

 

“Hey, you show me you’re clean and we can re-negotiate,” Jensen said, only slurring slightly He might be drunk and undercover, but he wouldn’t risk his health. It was bad enough he was risking his life all the time.

 

Jared pulled him up into his lap like he weighed nothing. Jesus, this strength thing was quickly become a kink for Jensen.

 

“You’re a piece of work,” Jared murmured and then he gripped Jensen's face in his huge hands, kissed him and didn’t stop until they reached the mansion.

 

In a familiar pattern, they stumbled from the car into the house, only this time, Jared dragged him up the stairs. Jensen had to work hard to suppress his giddiness.

 

He was in, he was fucking  _ in _ .

 

They slowly made their way up the stairs, kissing and touching. It was soft, all of a sudden, Jared moving slow and unhurried and Jensen forced himself to go with it, even though his dick was insistently throbbing in his pants, and he didn’t want to have gentle sex with Jared. That was not the plan. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Jared was supposed to fuck him hard and fast again, and as far as maintaining distance went, the whole not doing it face-to-face was a good thing, but now Jared’s big hands were cradling Jensen's face, stroking along his jaw while he kissed him as thoroughly as never before.

 

Shit, this was not— 

 

Jared pulled away and stilled. Jensen wanted to ask what the fuck was wrong when a quiet noise penetrated his lust and alcohol-fogged mind.

 

It came from downstairs. Someone was moving around quietly.

 

Jared pulled a gun from the back of his pants while pressing a few buttons on his phone.

“Stay up here,” he whispered to Jensen. “Lock the bedroom door, it’ll hold.”

 

Jensen watched Jared quietly walk to the stairs, gun raised. Jensen was torn. His police instincts screamed for him to cover Jared, but he didn’t have a gun, and Jensen Campbell wasn’t really a conflict kind of guy.

 

He went into the bedroom, considered searching it, but that was just too crazy. He did look into the nightstand though and found another gun.

 

When the first shot rang out downstairs, Jensen made up his mind. He grabbed the gun and hurried to the stairs.

 

He could hear shouts, saw muzzle flare lighting up the rooms. He heard someone who sounded like Clif yelling and Murray cursing. Then there was the telltale thump of a man hitting the floor and Jensen ducked and walked down the stairs.

 

More shots were fired, glass broke and someone yelled in pain. He sprinted over to the living room door, pressing himself against the wall as soon as there was cover.

 

Two people were lying either dead or heavily injured on the floor, Jared and Clif were to the far right of the room, where a giant arch lead to a hallway and to the business room where Jared received the guests with whom he negotiated deals.

 

Jared and Clif were locked in fire with a guy hiding behind the couch and really, Jensen had a perfect shot here.

 

He aimed for the guy’s shoulder, and it was a clean hit. Then something heavy hit him in the back and he stumbled forward, another body pressing against him, and the warm round metal of a gun nozzle pressed against his ribs. He stumbled, stepped into a glass shard and when the burning pain shot through his foot, he let himself fall, curled himself into a ball and hoped Jared would shoot the fucker before Jensen died.

 

Jared didn’t disappoint.

 

Afterwards, it was kind of a blur. Jensen was still drunk, adrenaline running high, the blood loss was making him dizzy, and the painkillers that someone had shoved into his hand didn’t really help with keeping a clear head. He just hoped he wouldn’t accidentally reveal his true identity, which for some reason was incredibly funny and made him laugh.

 

“Fuck, Chad, how many pills did you give him?”

 

“Don’t know, but he’s bleeding pretty bad and if the doc’s gonna stitch him up—”

 

“Yes, well, maybe you should have let me decide how many painkillers to administer,” a new voice said, dry as sandpaper.

 

Jensen forced his eyes open and stared into an older face, marred by more lines he could count.

 

“Jensen,” the stranger said in a pleasant, cultivated voice. “I have to clean and sew up the wound on your foot.”

 

Jensen made a wavy motion with his hand and tried to remember what Campbell’s priority would be right now.

 

“Just make sure it doesn’t leave a scar,” he mumbled and let hands hoist him up on the couch, foot pulled out.

 

He felt the dull sting of a needle, then he leaned back into the cushions. They were rather hard, raising rhythmically up and down and had a heartbeat. Huh. That was weird.

 

“It’s gonna be fine, baby,” Jensen’s cushion said and he tried to make another affirmative motion with his hands, but really, he was way too tired to move. He dozed off without ever opening his eyes.

  
  


 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

A.J. was buzzing with excitement.

 

He was way too young to be on this task force. Hell, everybody had said he was too young to become a detective at twenty-seven. But it happened anyway. This task force was a different matter. They were going after the most notorious crime boss the city had seen in over two decades and only the most respected detectives were going to get in on that. The only reason why A.J. was on the task force was because of his partner, Detective Garwin Sanford. He was the senior Detective of the Organized Crime Division of the Chicago Police Department, a decorated officer and the only member of the police asked to join the FBI’s task force on the Padalecki organization. When Assistant Director Morgan had asked him to join he’d said yes, but only if they would include his partner. A.J. would be forever grateful for that.

 

Now, in this meeting, he would finally get the chance to prove himself. Everybody was here: Morgan and Tal, the cute blond computer wiz, Whitfield and Evans from Organized Crime, Rhodes and Blair from Homicide, and Steen and Wester from Vice. And of course, Sanford and him, holding up the honor of the Chicago PD among all the FBI agents.

 

Morgan looked over to A.J. and then addressed the whole group. “Good morning, everybody. I called this meeting because there were some interesting developments yesterday and I believe Detectives Sanford and Buckley have some news to share with us.”

 

“We do.” Sanford stood up and cleared his throat. “Early Monday morning around five am a 911 call came into dispatch from a jogger who reported she had heard shots fired in a house on Grover Drive. Two units drove out there immediately, but after checking in with the residents and being assured that everything was okay and no shots were fired, they left again. However, they informed me of the occurrence, because the residence in question was Jared Padalecki's house. So at around eleven am, Detective Buckley and I stopped by Padalecki's residence. Padalecki was present and completely hospitable as always, but assured us again that no shots had been fired, maybe the jogger had heard them making noise when they came home from the bar. The living room was mostly cleaned up, but there were some signs of a struggle, mainly the broken glass door of a display cabinet and bullet holes in the wall. Padalecki assured us that they were from the guys “playing around” some other time and that no one had been harmed.”

 

Blair snorted and Rhodes murmured, “No one got hurt, my ass.”

 

Sanford nodded at them and continued. “We have no idea yet what happened there, but to me it looked like somebody broke into Padalecki's home, tried to kill him and obviously failed. Without a warrant, there is no way to prove this, of course, and he insisted that everything was fine. When I asked him how the cabinet had been broken he said that it had been Jen, and here is where it gets interesting.” Sanford smiled at A.J. “Detective Buckley, you want to continue this? You figured it all out.”

 

All eyes turned to A.J. He tried desperately to hide his nervousness. He had participated in group discussions and asked a few smart questions but this was the first time he’d had the floor.

 

He slowly stood up and wiped his sweaty palms over his pants.

 

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Gavin. Well after Padalecki's comment about Jen, I went out to the porch and there was a guy I’d never seen before sitting at the breakfast table. He’s definitely not in the file of Padalecki’s known associates. He looked a little bit hung-over, but like he belonged there, you know? And I thought, hey, maybe he’s one of Padalecki's bed bunnies, but they never get to stay for coffee. And a businesses acquaintance? Hung over at the breakfast table? I think not.

 

“So I went over to him and Murray was standing there and waving me off, like, 'Dude don’t talk to him' or something, but of course that didn’t deter me. Anyway, so I went to this guy and introduced myself as CPD and asked him if he was Jen. And he just stared at me, half asleep, but mean, you know, like an angry cat and just said ‘Don’t call me that.’ And I was like, well what should I call you and he’s like, ‘don’t call me anything I just wanna drink my coffee in peace.’ Totally impudent, right? So I tell him, I’m a police officer and he has to ID himself and he goes like, 'alright fine, it’s Jensen Campbell, what the fuck do you want?' And Murray keeps like trying to wave me away, like I’m disturbing the queen or something and so I think: Hey, what if he is?

 

“And then I notice his foot is propped up on the chair and all bandaged and I ask him what happened and he completely explodes and starts yelling. ‘I was drunk last night, okay?! And I walked into the stupid cabinet and then I stepped into the glass and cut myself and I’m in pain and fucking hung over, so go away!’”

 

The people in the room were following him with rapt attention, especially Morgan.

 

A.J. grinned and went on. “And I’m like, dude, chill, what’s your problem? And he’s like ‘I’ll tell you what my fucking problem is’ and then Padalecki comes out of the house.”

 

A.J. paused dramatically and looked at his audience. Special Agent Tal had scooted forward in her chair, looking at him with those big, dark eyes, and God, she was pretty.

 

“Well, what happened next?” she asked impatiently.

 

“Yeah, this isn’t storytelling hour, Buckley, get on with it,” Whitfield chimed in.

 

“Alright, alright, but people, this is good. This could be an in.”

 

“What could?” Rhodes pressed.

 

A.J. grinned. “Well, when Padalecki turned up, Campbell looked at him and said, 'Jared the police are annoying me, what are they doing here, I’m in pain, make them go away' and Padalecki chuckled. I mean he  _ chuckled _ and said, 'sorry, sweetheart, they’re just on their way out'.”

 

“Wait, he called him sweetheart?” Steen asked incredulously.

 

“Yep,” A.J. replied.

 

“But Padalecki does not do relationships. He doesn’t even do repeat performances. Ever!” She still couldn’t seem to believe it.

 

So A.J. continued. “I know, right? And that’s not even the end yet. So Padalecki turns to me and starts glowering and man, can he look scary. And he told me that we’re done here and I say okay and turn to leave and I hear Padalecki ask Campbell if he’s okay and he says 'fine', you know, like real bitchy and Padalecki laughs again and says 'how about we go have dinner tonight at the sushi place you wanted to try?’' and Campbell is like 'really, I thought you didn’t like sushi' and Padalecki says 'nah it’s okay; besides, you like it.' And then there were kissing sounds and then I was back in the house.”

 

It was quiet in the room for a moment.

 

Blair was the one to break the silence. “Padalecki has a boyfriend. An honest to God I-take-you-to-restaurants-I-don’t-like-to-cheer-you-up boyfriend!”

 

“Yep,” A.J. repeated.

 

The task force still looked disbelieving except for Morgan and Tal who were smiling in satisfaction.

 

Rhodes noticed and asked, “Why are you so happy about this?”

 

“This is great,” Morgan said. “By having a boyfriend, Padalecki makes himself vulnerable. Maybe we can turn Campbell. Or others will try to hurt him to get to Padalecki and he’ll be forced to take action. Either way, it can only be good for us.”

 

“Yeah, except for when he’s a murdering psychopath like the rest of his crew,” Wester remarked.

 

“True,” Morgan conceded. “What do we know about Campbell, then? Buckley, did you find anything?”

 

“Oh yes. And this is the really,  _ really _ good part.”

 

He looked to Sanford who nodded encouragingly.

 

A.J. turned to Alona. “May I?” he asked and gestured to the computer.

 

“Oh, sure” She scooted over and gave him space to pull up the file on Campbell.

 

A.J. went into professional mode to summarize the file. “Jensen Campbell, thirty-one, suspected of several B’n’Es, theft, grand theft, fencing of stolen goods, and forgery in ten states and eight European countries. He first popped up when he robbed the Paul Getty Museum in L.A. in 2005, then he started running with a crew of thieves in Boston. Their leader, Christopher Heyerdahl is one mean SOB and currently serving time for breaking into a jewelry store. Campbell was suspected of participating, but he escaped and Heyerdahl didn’t talk, so no warrants were issued. Campbell went to Europe shortly after, gave Interpol a run for their money and came back to the States three weeks ago. He’s supposed to be really good, all about leaving no trace behind, but apparently a little crazy. And of course, he’s gay. I believe one would call it ‘flaming’.”

 

“Huh. So Padalecki got himself a little thief. Well, it makes sense that he would hook up with another criminal,” Whitfield said.

 

“Actually it doesn’t make sense at all,” Rhodes interrupted. “I know a bunch of these high-end thieves. They don’t like the mob. Try to avoid them as a matter of fact. So how did these two meet?”

 

“And this,” A.J. said triumphantly “is the best part!” He still wanted to clap himself on the back for figuring it out. Sanford had actually done so and A.J. had only barely been able to suppress a little happy dance.

 

“Remember how two weeks ago, there was a supposed security breach at Padalecki's office, but they denied it? And a day later, Fredric Lehne gets almost beaten to death, but refuses to tell by whom? I didn’t put it together until I saw that Campbell steals art for a living, preferably the Impressionists. About a month ago Padalecki won a Van Gogh at an art auction that Lehne bid on as well, but lost. After the auction, there was a scene between the two of them and Lehne said something like, ‘I’m gonna get my painting back, you’ll see!’”

 

“What are you thinking here, Detective?” Morgan asked.

 

“Well, the only thing that makes sense is that Lehne hired Campbell to steal the painting, failed, Padalecki figured out that Lehne tried to have the painting stolen, had him beat up and out of revenge Lehne told Campbell to steal it anyway, and since he couldn’t get it the usual way, he’s now seducing Padalecki to get to it!”

 

Stunned silence.

 

Then Rhodes said: “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” while Whitfield exclaimed: “Brilliant. With that as a threat we can totally turn him on Padalecki!”

 

The ensuing discussion was the loudest that had ever taken place at one of their meetings. Whitfield and Rhodes argued the most, with the others interjecting remarks and questions occasionally.

 

Finally, Morgan stood up and slammed his folder on the table. Everybody went quiet at the loud snapping noise.

 

“People, that’s enough. We’re not in high school—you’re officers of the law, behave accordingly.”

 

Embarrassed, everybody looked down on the table.

 

“Now, what Detective Buckley speculated has certain merit, but we can’t know for sure.”

 

“Doesn’t matter, does it? We can flip Campbell with it anyway.”

 

“What do you mean, Whitfield?” Tal asked.

 

Whitfield grinned smugly. “Well, either Padalecki doesn’t know Campbell is the thief and we tell him that if he doesn’t flip, we tell Padalecki who’s trying to steal from him. I mean, we have to protect such an upstanding member of the community, right? And if Padalecki does know—which I think is highly unlikely, because Padalecki is not a man who lets a thief live—but even if, we can still flip Campbell with the whole you’re a thief, he’s a mob boss, it will never work, Romeo and Juliet routine.”

 

Morgan nodded. “I like it. It’s worth a try at least. Whitfield, you and Evans make the contact.”

 

“What?” A.J. spluttered. “But this was my discovery!”

 

Morgan looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and pity in his eyes. “And we all appreciate that, it was good work. But this offer needs to come from a FBI agent, not the Chicago PD.”

 

Morgan shot Sanford a meaningful look, who nodded grimly. “Alright people, that’s it for today. Next regular meeting on Friday!”

 

People slowly filed out of the room, Whitfield talking excitedly to his partner and Wester patting A.J. on the shoulder, murmuring a “Sorry, man,” at him.

 

In the end it was only Sanford and him left and A.J. still didn’t understand what had just happened.

 

“What the fuck was that?” he asked Sanford.

 

His partner sighed. “Kid, you have a lot to learn when it comes to working with the Feds. This is  _ their _ show. We were invited in as a courtesy, and to make access to our resources easier for them. But it’s still their show and when important things are going down, they’ll do it themselves. Sorry, kid.”

 

Sanford left and A.J. was left alone in the conference room, all of his former elation and excitement gone, only disappointment left. He had imagined this going so very differently.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I appreciate the Sushi offer,” Jensen said, lips still sliding against Jared’s.

 

Jared drew back. “But?”

 

“Not like I can walk right now,” Jensen said pointing at his foot.

 

Jared smiled and leaned in again. “I’ll have it delivered,” he said.

 

When Jared left to take care of some indeterminate mobster business, Jensen leaned back and smiled. The police knew he was here, as Jared’s boyfriend. They’d undoubtedly report this to Morgan—Jensen had made sure to make a memorable impression on the young detective—so Morgan would know he was fine and making progress. And being on the police’s official radar would help strengthen his credibility with Jared’s crew. He felt pretty safe with his cover by now, but he had to plan for all eventualities. He’d never be completely out of the woods, criminals were inherently suspicious and Jensen was sure that at some point, suspicions would arise again. It was one of the constant hazards of going deep cover.

 

At least he now knew that Jared cared for him—if only a bit. He’d been quite fussy about Jensen, well, as fussy as you’d imagine a mob boss being. His brusque housekeeper Sam, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. She was mother-henning him worse than his own mom used to do. It was kind of nice.

 

Jensen reached for his coffee again and decided to give Morgan a call as soon as he could walk. It would be good if Morgan could sic some more police on him, especially over-eager puppies like Detective Buckley.

 

Jensen had decided that Jensen Campbell would glare at everyone today. Yesterday, two members of the Chicago PD had bothered him, then Jared had cut their dinner short because of some kind of ‘situation’ and his foot still fucking hurt. Glaring was justified. And the problem with a two inch long and half an inch deep cut in the sole of his foot was, he couldn’t walk on it. Dr. Richings had done a good job of sewing him up, as a matter of fact, Jensen thought it was a much better care than he’d have gotten at a local ER, but the Doc had also told him not to walk for at least a few days.

 

Which was convenient, since it meant he couldn’t travel. He’d told Jared in a rather bitchy voice that he’d stay with him until he was well enough to walk and Jared had to look after him, seeing how it was his fault Jensen was injured in the first place.

 

Jared had shaken his head. “If you had stayed in the bedroom like I had told you to…”

 

Jensen huffed. “You try helping someone and this is what you get!”

 

Sam had taken Jensen’s side, telling him he wouldn’t need to worry about a thing; she’d take care of everything.

 

So Jensen had gotten a nice set up on a very cushiony lounge outside and food and drink whenever he wanted. Chad was ordered to pick up a couple of paperbacks, which he promptly relayed to Abel, because “Seriously, Jay, I’m not an errand boy!” so all in all it wasn’t a bad deal.

 

Actually, Jensen thought, for him it couldn’t have gone more perfectly. Jensen Campbell wouldn’t share that opinion, because he was in deep shit. Jensen Campbell needed a lot of cash, and quickly, so he needed to work yesterday. So Jensen glared. Inwardly, he smiled. He had never thought in a thousand years that things would go this smoothly.

 

Part of that, of course, was Jared himself. He was currently pacing the grass, throwing a tennis ball for Harley while talking on the phone to someone who was, by the tight look of concentration on Jared’s face, important.

 

Jensen wasn’t close enough to hear anything, so he concentrated back on his book and scratching Sadie’s head. It was a good day.

 

When Jared was done, he disappeared into the house and then came back out with two beers, giving one to Jensen.

 

“You look unhappy,” Jared said and sat down on the edge of Jensen’s lounge, putting a hand on his thigh. “Anything I can do to cheer you up?”

 

Jensen lifted his leg with his injured foot. “Unless you have magical healing powers, I don’t think so.”

 

“Well,” Jared said, looking down at his crotch with a smirk. “You never know.”

 

Jensen slapped Jared playfully on the shoulder. “Dork.”

 

Jared gave him a predatory grin, that made heat pool low in his belly. “Not really, sweetheart.”

 

Jensen couldn't count anymore how many times he’d rolled his eyes the last few days, but it didn’t stop him now.

 

“Does it hurt that bad?” Jared asked, voice serious. His concern was almost endearing.

 

Jensen shook his head. “Nah, it’s not that bad, I just don’t like being laid up like that, you know? And I had a job lined up for next week, which I won’t be able to do now.”

 

Jared shrugged his shoulders. “So get another one. For someone of your caliber, there’s always work.”

 

“Yeah, but that one would’ve paid really well,” Jensen grumbled.

 

“What is it with you and money?”

 

Jensen looked at Jared with narrowed eyes. “Nothing. I just like it okay? I like to count it and smell it and roll around in it.”

 

Jared drew back in mock surprise. “Oh, my god, I knew it! All the huffing and puffing, you really are a dragon, aren’t you?”

 

“Go away Jared, I’m reading.”

 

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

 

And then Jared straddled his legs, mindful of Jensen’s bandaged foot, bent down, opened Jensen’s pants with quick moves and licked over his dick.

 

Jensen just managed to put the beer bottle on the table and let his book thump to the ground, before Jared swallowed his rapidly filling dick down. He made quick work of Jensen, sucking him hard and fast, hands jacking the base of his dick and Jensen gladly fell into the pleasure.

 

Jared watched Jensen like a hawk while Jensen came so hard, he’d felt like he was floating there for a moment—although that could also be residual effects from the painkillers. Then Jared stood up, still straddling Jensen and took his hard dick out of his pants. It really was a thing of beauty and Jensen didn’t protest when Jared nudged it against his lips, just opened up and let Jared fuck his mouth.

 

This time Jared actually pulled out, coming all over Jensen’s chest. He reached for a towel to clean Jensen off before giving him a soft kiss.

 

“I need to take care of some business, but I’ll be back in time for dinner. Sam promised she’d make meatloaf.”

 

Jensen smiled, trying to make his expression as soft as possible. Jared stared for a moment, then he gave him another kiss, harder this time, and walked back to the house.

 

Jensen reached for his book again. A good day indeed.

Jared started to insist on carrying Jensen to the bedroom. Jensen tried to protest—he wasn’t a fucking damsel in distress but Jared just picked him up like he weighed nothing. He carried Jensen down the hall, because while Jared could carry him up, he would be long gone by the time Jensen woke up the next morning with no other option than to pathetically hobble down the stairs.

 

So Jensen slept downstairs again. At first he’d considered it a step back, but he’d seen how reluctant Jared was to leave him each time. Three nights in, he just threw his good leg in a post-coital haze over Jared, put his head on Jared’s chest and said, “stay.” And Jared had listened.

 

Jensen had hidden a smile by pressing a kiss to his pec.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“...no, he’s not a cop.”

Jensen stopped dead in his tracks. He’d been lounging around outside in the sun, but was limping inside to relieve himself. After a week of resting, his foot was doing much better, but clearly Jared hadn’t expected him to come inside just now.

“I had Chad run his prints, I’m not stupid,” Jared said exasperatedly. “Trust me, he is who he says he is.”

There was a pause, and Jensen could here agitated pacing from Jared’s office.

“Yes, I know, but-”

Jared broke off again and Jensen quickly limped past the hallway leading to the back rooms and hid in the living room. He had to strain to hear, but he managed.

“I fucking know that he could still be here to gather intel. I know, okay? I know I have enemies and he wouldn’t be the first to come at me like that. But trust me, Gen, it’s not like that. I practically had to drag him in my bed… I know it’s suspicious timing. But… That’s enough. I fucking know what I’m doing, okay? Jensen’s the best lay I found in years and I’m not giving him up just because you think there’s something off about him… Fuck, Gen no, it’s not...”

There was a pause again and then Jared cursed out a low _fuck_ and the sound of a phone shattering against a wall sounded through the silent house.

Crap. Gen just had to be short for Genevieve Cortese, one of Jared’s most trusted advisors. If Jared believed her, or even started to doubt Jensen… he might have to adjust his plan a bit.

He made his way quietly to the bathroom. When he came out Jared was standing at the door to the veranda absently scratching Harley’s neck

“Where are you coming from?” he asked Jensen sharply.

“Bathroom,” Jensen said nonchalant. “You okay? You look stressed.”

Jared waved him off, but his face was still brooding.

“Okay, then,” Jensen said. “I was thinking of going out tomorrow. Shop a bit.”

Jared nodded. “Willy will drive you.”

“Willy?”

“Winston’s cousin.”

“Of course,” Jensen muttered and went back outside, but not without brushing up against Jared. There was no reaction and cold fear settled deep in his belly. He couldn’t lose Jared now.

 

That night, Jared came into Jensen’s room late and reeking of whiskey. He threw his clothes off carelessly, pressed Jensen into the mattress and fucked him hard after perfunctory prep.

Jensen wasn’t getting off on it and Campbell was indignant at being treated like a cheap fucktoy, so when Jared was done and rolled off of him, already half asleep and condom still clinging to his dick, Jensen moved to the couch.

Jared would have quite some groveling to do the next morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jared woke with a pounding headache. Damn. Usually he knew when to cut himself off or at least remembered to take a painkiller before going to bed, but last night… right, last night. Getting drunk with Chad and Mike. Never a good idea.

 

Jared reached next to him, but the bed was empty. Huh. Jensen wasn’t really an early riser, so either it was late or he hadn’t slept here. And didn’t that thought sting.

 

Jared was still wearing his watch and a look told him it was already after eleven. Thank fuck his presence at his downtown office wasn’t regularly required. Aldis and Gen managed just fine. Gen…

 

Fuck. He knew she was just being cautious. But it didn’t sit well with Jared that she thought someone could play him like that. Jensen was definitely hiding something from him, but Jared didn’t think that he was working for someone else. No, there was something else that made Jared’s spine tingle, a potential weakness Jensen was hiding and it annoyed the hell out of Jared that he hadn’t found out what it was yet.

 

Jensen was the most infuriating puzzle he’d ever met, incredibly beautiful, entirely unafraid and not giving Jared an inch. He was a challenge and a mystery and Jared just wanted to crack him and find out all his dark, hot little secrets. That was all there was to it and not at all what Gen had insinuated.

 

Shit, the little thief was really doing a number on him. And if Jared had learned anything about Jensen, he was in for one hell of a bitch fit after what he’d done last night. He’d just been so angry; angry that Jensen was hiding things from him, that other people doubted him, that the mess with the La13 was slowly escalating… He had coped the only way that had made sense in that moment. And now he was actually lying in bed, worrying about it. He felt like he was losing control of the situation and that was unacceptable. This shit needed to stop.

 

After he’d walked up to his bedroom, taken a shower and dressed, he went out into the garden. Jensen put on his prime bitch face when Jared walked closer.

 

“What do you want?” Jensen bit out.

 

Jared wouldn’t apologize. If Jensen decided to stick around, he’d have to get used to Jared taking what he wanted. That didn’t mean that Jared couldn’t be a nice guy though, and he held out his credit card to Jensen.

 

“You wanted to go shopping, right?”

 

“I told you—” Jensen started and Jared waved him off. Despite his obvious money problems Jensen was very adamant about his financial independence. Jared could respect that. Still.

 

“I know, I know, you’re not gonna be my kept boy. I got that the first time and it’s not what I want anyway. Take this as reparations, if you will.”

 

“Last night,” Jensen started, green eyes glaring daggers.

 

“I was drunk and I had a crappy day, sweetheart. I needed you.” Jared was not above pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

 

“That’s no excuse for forgetting your manner,” Jensen bit out. “I’m not your personal fucktoy.”

 

Usually, Jared prided himself on being an excellent lover. He loved to see his conquests fall apart under his hands and with Jensen’s challenging and occasionally bristly attitude, the victory always felt extra sweet. Jared knew that last night he hadn’t exactly lived up to his own standards. 

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

 

Jensen glared for a moment longer, then he threw up his hands. “Fine! But don’t complain when you get the bill!”

 

With that Jensen stood up and stomped over to the house as best as he could with his injured foot. Jared couldn’t stop himself from staring at his ass. It was a nice ass.

 

When Jensen had disappeared into the house, Jared sighed. The tingling feeling at the base of his neck was still there. It was really pissing him off that Jensen was hiding something from him. No one in Jared’s house kept secrets from him. He would just have to ask Aldis to dig deeper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kurt’s stomach was growling and his feet hurt by the time they found Campbell in a small coffee shop. They had been chasing him the whole day, going from boutique to boutique, always a step behind him. Now he was taking a break from his four hour shopping spree, surrounded by bags as he sat at a corner table, reading a book and drinking a large coffee-like drink with sprinkles on top. The guy who had been driving Campbell around all day was nowhere to be seen, but Kurt would bet his life on him being in the vicinity.

 

Next to him Whitfield snorted. “Would you look at that. Spoiled little boy toy.”

 

Kurt agreed, but still... “Don’t let him notice you think that. It’s going to go better if he at least doesn’t hate you.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Whitfield asked. “You’re clearly the good cop in our team. Now let’s talk to him, before he leaves again.”

 

They made their way over to his table and Whitfield plopped down on the chair across from Campbell. Kurt hesitated shortly when Campbell raised his eyes from his book and glared daggers at them, but then followed his partner’s lead and sat down.

 

“Mr. Campbell,” Whitfield greeted him in a businesslike tone. “Let me introduce ourselves. I am Special Agent Charles Whitfield, this is my partner Special Agent Kurt Evans. We’re with the FBI’s field office here in Chicago and work the Organized Crime division.”

 

Jensen nodded his head. “Can I see some ID with that lengthy introduction?”

 

Whitfield stopped short for a moment, then remembered that he was legally obligated to ID himself and got his badge out of his pocket. Evans followed suit and Campbell examined the badges carefully.

 

After he was done he asked, “Alright Agents, what can I do for you?”

 

“That’s not the right question, Mr. Campbell. The question you should ask yourself is, what can we do for you.”

 

“Is that so?” Campbell was clearly amused by the prospect.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Whitfield answered. “Like how can we protect you from Jared Padalecki.”

 

The thief raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I need protection from Jared?”

 

“Well,” Whitfield dragged out the word. That was Kurt’s cue.

 

“Charles, don’t be an ass. Just tell him.”

 

“Oh, alright, you spoilsport. Well as it is, we know that Frederic Lehne hired you to steal a painting from Padalecki. What was it again, Kurt?”

 

“A Van Gogh,” Kurt answered.

 

“Right, right, a pretty little Van Gogh.” Whitfield was enjoying this very much. “As I said, Lehne hired you, you obviously failed the first time and now you’re taking a different approach.”

 

“Excuse you?” Campbell asked mildly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Kurt leaned forwards. “I know that you must be scared, Mr. Campbell, but we can help you. Jared Padalecki is a very dangerous man, but if you help us out, we will make  _ sure  _ you are safe from him.”

 

Kurt tried to speak in a soft tone, like he would to a frightened animal. Except Campbell wasn’t frightened, he just started to laugh. It made him look very young and carefree.

 

“Gentlemen, again I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know this Lehne guy you’re talking about and I certainly never tried to steal from Jared. Now if you’ll excuse me, my book is extremely suspenseful right now and I’d really like to know who made the blue flames during the night, so if you don’t mind....” Campbell looked at them expectantly.

 

“Mr. Campbell, I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in,” Whitfield was talking with a hard edge in his voice, looking at Campbell like he was stupid and despicable all at once. “You are living with a criminal. That either means you’re too stupid to know what he really does or you do know but just don’t care. Which makes you a criminal as well. We’re trying to offer you a way out. Because your way will get you killed sooner or later.”

 

“How dare you,” Campbell hissed, fury in his expressive eyes. “You come here, interrupt my coffee break, insult me and my boyfriend and our relationship! It’s outrageous! Jared is an upstanding citizen of this city, employing hundreds of people and supporting the city with his charitable events. But no, someone so young can’t possibly be so successful by legal means, so you make him a scapegoat for your failed attempts to make any headway against organized crime. You’re pathetic!”

 

“You can’t believe that Campbell, not with your own record. And yes, we know about your extracurricular activities.”

 

“My record?” Campbell asked. “My record is clean and I don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise. So stop wasting my time, Agent!”

 

“Mr. Campbell, please,” Kurt interceded. “If you don’t help us, we will be forced to inform Mr. Padalecki of the possibility that he might get robbed in the near future.”

 

“We have to protect such a fine, upstanding citizen like him, you understand,” Whitfield said, voice full of sarcasm.

 

“As a matter of fact, we were on our way to him now,” Kurt admitted, looking pleadingly at Campbell. “And once we talk to him, there is no telling what he might do. You haven’t known him that long, but he doesn’t exactly have a forgiving nature. I knew the circles you ran in, and trust me, Padalecki plays in a whole different league. But we can’t help you unless you help us,” he implored Campbell.

 

The thief looked completely annoyed now. “Seriously, there is nothing to help! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was just about to head home.”

 

“We’re going the same way, shall we give you a lift?” Whitfield asked.

 

Campbell replied with an icy, “No, thank you.”

 

They watched him leave with all his bags and wave for the driver who had apparently parked just across the street.

 

“Shit,” Whitfield cursed. “We have to hurry to beat him to Padalecki's compound.”

 

Kurt nodded and together they hurried to their car.

The housekeeper greeted them at the door and lead them through the large rooms out the backyard. Kurt let his eyes wander, trying to get the layout of the house, finding possible escape routes. The furniture wasn’t as overbearing as he thought it would be, obviously expensive, but nothing flashy and everything tastefully decorated. They followed the housekeeper through the wide entrance hall past the staircase. They walked through two adjoining rooms, both with couches and a giant entertainment center. There was a large glass front leading out to the wide veranda. Padalecki was sitting there, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Campbell was sitting next to him, eating strawberries and reading a thick paperback. He looked entirely unconcerned and relaxed.

 

“Mr. Padalecki,” Whitfield said, tone busy professional. “I am Special Agent Whitfield, this is Special Agent Evans. We’re with the FBI’s office here in Chicago.”

 

Padalecki looked up with a friendly smile. Up close, he looked like a nice young man, all bright-eyed and dimple-smiled. Except for how his broad shoulders were casually thrown back, the clear outlines of a gun holster under his jacket, and how his gaze was too hard and too calculating.

 

“Gentlemen,” he said with a pleasant smile, “What can I do for you?”

 

“Well,” Whitfield said, sitting down at the table. Padalecki’s mouth twitched, but that was the only indication he might be displeased.

 

“Please,” was all he said, waving for them to sit down.

 

Whitfield smiled arrogantly and Kurt sat down with a uneasy feeling in his gut. His partner was playing a dangerous game, antagonizing Padalecki so personally.

 

“Actually,” Whitfield continued, “it’s not about what you can do for us, but what we can do for you.”

 

Campbell snorted. “Not very creative, are you, with your helpful-Fed speech?”

 

He hadn’t looked up from his book and Padalecki shot him a half-curious, half-indulgent smile.

 

“I’m curious to know what you think you can do for me?” Padalecki asked them.

 

Whitfield just smiled and Kurt knew this was his cue.

 

“Mr. Padalecki, I’m afraid I have to inform you that Jensen Campbell is a known art thief and that we suspect him of trying to steal from you.”

 

Padalecki kept looking mildly curious until his face changed to mock astonishment. “Oh, you’re serious? I thought you guys were making a joke.”

 

“We’re dead serious,” Whitfield said. “Did you know that your little boy toy is an international art thief, suspected of being involved in over ten high profile thefts?”

 

Campbell leaned over the table and took Padalecki’s coffee cup.

 

“You’re not gonna like it,” Padalecki warned him mildly, but Campbell just gave him a smile and drank anyway.

 

“Better than getting up and getting my own,” Campbell said.

 

Padalecki shook his head and reached over to rest a hand on Campbell’s neck. “You were saying?” he asked Whitfield.

 

Kurt could almost feel his partner vibrating with anger. “I was saying that your boyfriend here is a thief.”

 

“No, he’s not. Jensen might be an art aficionado but he would never steal anything,” Padalecki said as if this was an obvious fact. “Especially not from me.”

 

“Mr. Padalecki, we know he was the one who tried to steal your painting,” Kurt said beseechingly.

 

Padalecki was still completely calm. “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t have anything stolen from me, nor did anyone try.”

 

“If he didn’t steal your painting, why did you have Lehne beat up?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Padalecki’s face was still open and friendly but Kurt saw him clenching his fist. Then Campbell reached out and interlaced their fingers. Padalecki shot him a quick smile and when he turned back to Charles and Kurt he seemed much more relaxed.

 

Kurt was beginning to think they had completely misjudged the situation.

 

“Mr. Padalecki,” Whitfield said, leaning forwards, “You’re living with a thief who tried to steal from you. He will try again. And I’ll tell you something else: thieves like him, they might like the flashy shiny stuff, but they get the hell out of dodge as soon as the bullets start to fly. Your boy toy here is not gonna stick around for long and who knows what he’ll take with him when he leaves.”

 

“Are you done now?” Padalecki asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “You are wrong and I do not appreciate you coming here to insult my relationship.”

 

Whitfield stood up and Kurt followed his lead. “This is my number,” he told Padalecki. “If you change your mind, call us.”

 

“Good day, gentlemen,” Padalecki said without even glancing at the card. The housekeeper was there immediately, guiding them out in icy silence.

 

Out in the car, they sat in silence for a while.

 

“What do you think?” Whitfield finally asked him.

 

“I think Padalecki knows,” Kurt said slowly. “And for some reason, he doesn’t care. I don’t know what their deal is, if Campbell is alive because he’s fucking Padalecki, or if he’s stealing things for him, but I’m sure that Padalecki knows and thinks he has the situation under control. Campbell is a dead end, we can’t use him.”

 

Whitfield looked pensive. “We’ll see. We’ll keep an eye on him. He could be a good pressure point on Padalecki. Let’s take a closer look at what that has been up to, maybe we can make something stick enough to get a warrant. Let’s see what Padalecki does if we throw his little toy in jail.”

 

Kurt looked back to the house. Somehow he doubted Padalecki would take it in stride. Pressure point indeed.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains slightly NSFW art

 

 

Jensen stared at the suitcase on the bed. Ever since his foot had healed, Jared had taken him up to his bed every night, but Jensen’s stuff had remained down here, in the guest room. It was not an acceptable place for him to be; he needed to move into Jared’s bedroom, but Jared had made no move to take their relationship further. When Jensen had managed to call Morgan yesterday, the news hadn’t been encouraging.

 

“Cortese and Hodge have both been digging into your past,” the Assistant Director had told him. “With the way they’re looking they’re not gonna find anything, I think, but it’s making me worry that they still don’t buy your cover. Maybe it’s time to clue Padalecki in to the Heyerdahl situation to get them off your back?”

 

Jensen had told him no and hung up. Fact of the matter was, he was playing a dangerous game. He was still purposefully leading Jared around by his nose, hiding his money troubles and possible problems with Heyerdahl from him. He’d never expected to make it part of the charade like this, but if Heyerdahl was released in the next few months and came to Jared for the money Jensen owed him, well, it wouldn’t look good. It would look like Jensen had sought protection and wealth in Jared’s bed and that was not something that led to a trusting, equal relationship.

 

So Jensen had to keep his troubles with his former crewmembers to himself and try to sort it out on his own. It would mean he’d have to steal more merchandise, taking jobs for hire and freelancing alike. But Campbell had always picked his targets out of the one percent and if he managed to get his hands on stolen or smuggled merchandise not even the insurance companies would take a hit. He could tell Morgan of course, but he may decide to interfere, and the FBI messing with Heyerdahl would only further arouse suspicion. If Cortese and Hodge were digging as deep as Morgan had said, they’d already know at least partly about his connection to Heyerdahl.

 

Really, it was a toss-up whether this move was the right one, but he had a feeling in his gut that Jared wanted him to be innocent, wanted Jensen to want him for the right reasons. This play would either give Jensen the credibility once and for all that he didn’t want Jared for his power or his money, or it would exasperate Jared enough that he’d decide Jensen was more trouble than he was worth.

 

If Jared was agitated enough over this to throw phones… Jensen knew Jared had a temper, but he decided to take it as a sign. Resolutely, he opened the suitcase and started putting his clothes inside.

  
  
  


“What are you doing?” Jared’s voice would’ve startled Jensen if he hadn’t expected him.

 

“What does it look like?” he asked back.

 

“It looks like you’re packing.”

 

“If it walks like a duck...”

 

There was silence while Jensen packed the rest of his clothes, the clothes Jared had paid for. When he was done, everything neatly folded and he couldn’t delay it anymore, he turned around. Jared was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are you leaving ? Why now?”

 

Jensen sighed. “Because I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. The assassinations, the FBI interrogation. Being with you is not good for keeping a low profile. Which is exactly what I should be doing right now.”

 

“Right, and why is that again?” For the first time Jared sounded really pissed.

 

“Another reason why I have to leave.” Jensen gave him a wry smile to soften the blow. “You’re way too curious. I already shared more with you than I wanted. This—I’m sorry Jared, this was fun but I never should have done this. We just don’t fit.”

 

“Again, why?”

 

“I steal art for a living. I come and go in the dark, without making a sound. When it comes to my job, I’m invisible. And I like it that way. You’re the exact opposite. It’s not gonna work and you know it. I don’t belong in your world”

 

Jared nodded. “Well, you’ll forgive me for hoping otherwise.”

 

Jensen smiled crookedly and nodded.

 

Jared came closer, stopping only just in front of Jensen. He lifted his hand and ran it through Jensen’s hair. “I’m going to miss you.”

 

Jensen leaned into the touch. “Gonna miss you too.”

 

“Do you have to leave right now or do you have time to say goodbye?” There was no innuendo in Jared’s voice, no flirty grin on his face, just an open and honest question.

 

Jensen felt his stupid heart stutter at Jared’s earnest request. “Yeah. Yeah, I have some time.”

 

“Good.”

 

Jared’s face was dark as he leaned in and sealed his mouth to Jensen’s. The kiss was slow, unhurried, strong press of lips on lips and then Jared slid his tongue in, deep, intense. His right hand was still on Jensen’s face and the left on the small of his back, pressing him close. Jensen could only feel Jared, surrounding him, inside him, burning him up with the insistent swipes of his tongue. And then his hands started moving, roaming over every part of Jensen’s body, strong and sure.

 

Jared pulled off Jensen’s shirt and opened his pants. Then he took off his own shirt and pushed Jensen back until his legs hit the bed. Jared pressed him down, pushed him up, pulling off shoes and socks and pants and boxers along the way until Jensen was completely naked, panting and hard on the bed.

 

For a moment Jared just stood there, watching Jensen with hungry eyes, muscles tensed and coiled like a giant cat, ready to pounce on his prey. And Jensen was burning under that gaze. Jared had never been like this before, so intense, so fixed on Jensen, and Jensen wanted it. He shouldn’t, he knew that, not like this, but then Jared shed the rest of his clothes and Jensen didn’t think anymore.

 

He let himself be taken over by the want and desire racing through him. He pulled up one of his legs and let it fall to the side, inviting Jared where he wanted him the most.

 

But Jared didn’t pounce, instead he wrapped one hand around Jensen’s ankle and started nosing his way up Jensen’s leg. He kissed the back of his knee, gave it a soft bite and holy hell since when was that an erogenous zone? Jared moved up further, trailing a line of open-mouthed kisses along the inside of his thigh. And then Jared was finally there, but he just skimmed past, kissing his way up Jensen’s stomach, making goosebumps run down his legs until even his toes were tingling. Jensen raised his hand, put it on Jared’s cheek.

 

“Jared,” his voice sounded hoarse and wrecked. “Come on.”

 

Instead of answering Jared turned his head and kissed the palm of his hand. Then Jared’s big hand pinned Jensen’s on the mattress and there was a warm and wet pressure on his pulse point.

 

Jensen moaned, couldn’t hold back, and Jared kissed and nipped his way up Jensen’s arm. If Jensen had thought the back of his knee felt good, he almost bowed off the mattress when Jared sucked a bruise onto the inside of his elbow.

 

Jensen wanted to spur Jared on, make him go faster, but Jared pinned him again to the bed and proceeded to kiss and lick and bite every part of his body. Jensen got lost in the pleasure and when Jared finally took his dick in his mouth, his hand firmly wrapped around the base, staving off any orgasm, Jensen finally realized what Jared was doing. He was taking him apart piece by piece, only to put him back together in a way that would ruin him for any other man.

 

“God, Jared, need—” 

 

“What do you need, baby?”

 

“You. Need you to, to fuck me. Come on!”

 

Jared took him in again, sliding his mouth up and down on his dick, swirling his tongue along with it and then finally Jensen could feel one slick finger at his entrance. He had no idea when Jared got out the lube, only cared that it was finally happening—and why was Jared so damn careful all of a sudden—and Jensen bore down, trying to get more of Jared’s finger inside him but Jared held him still. Jensen almost sobbed and felt hot breath ghost over his spit-slick cock.

 

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

 

“Fuck, Jared, just fuck me already!”

 

“Beg.”

 

Through the haze of arousal Jensen thought he hadn’t heard right, because Jensen Campbell did not beg—Jensen Ackles even less—and Jared should know this.

 

“Jared, come on, just fuck me already!”

 

He reached down—to do what exactly he didn’t know, just something—but then Jared was over him, immobilizing him again, his mouth on his neck and the tip of his cock brushing against his hole.

 

“Beg,” he repeated and his voice sounded like liquid honey running down Jensen’s spine.

 

Jensen arched up, tried to get some sort of friction, but Jared evaded him, pushed him down, mouth still fused to his neck, scraping his teeth over that spot just below his ear, mumbling, “Come on baby, beg me, know you want to, want to hear you beg so prettily, god you’re so fucking pretty, Jen baby, fuck, come on,” and Jensen broke.

 

“God, okay Jared, please, fuck me, need your dick, please, just do it already!”

 

“Again,” Jared whispered in his ear, biting down on the lobe and Jensen didn’t know how, couldn’t think straight and “Oh, god, you broke me, you fucking bastard, shit, Jared please, just please, please—” and then Jensen felt the pressure building on his opening and his muscles relaxed. Jared slid inside in one long move, pushing the air out of Jensen’s lungs and it felt so fucking  _ good _ .

 

“God, yeah, baby, so good, so beautiful,” Jared cut himself off and then he was kissing Jensen again, wet hot sloppy slide of tongues and teeth clashing. Jensen didn’t even care, because Jared started to move, fast deep strokes. Then he pushed one of Jensen’s legs up and the angle shifted and suddenly Jared’s dick grazed that spot and pleasure shot down Jensen’s spine and his balls drew up. He needed something to hold onto, brought his arms up and around Jared, clawed at his back, bit at his shoulder and still the moans spilled out of his mouth. He felt wanton, out of control and he couldn’t care less.

 

Jared’s thrusts got harder, faster, more erratic, their mouths were still together, but not kissing anymore, just sharing air.

 

“Look at me, Jen. Look at me,” Jared ordered and Jensen opened his eyes. He suddenly realized that Jared was fucking him face to face for the first time.

 

The intensity of Jared’s gaze took his breath away. Jared changed the angle once again, hitting Jensen’s sweet spot dead on and it was over. The pleasure exploded through his whole body, his eyes slammed shut as his vision whited out and his toes curled up. Distantly he heard Jared shout something that sounded like his name, felt him stutter and pulse inside him and then Jared collapsed on top of him.

 

Suddenly the world was still, just their heavy breathing to disrupt the silence. Jensen felt boneless, sated and completely content. In the back of his mind he knew it couldn’t last, but for now he was going to bask in it.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


When he finally left, Jared’s face was dark. Jensen kissed him goodbye and Jared’s mouth was hard and unyielding at first, before he cracked and practically devoured Jensen’s mouth. This time, Jensen didn’t insist on a cab and Willy drove him to the airport.

 

His driver was just as quiet as Jared’s, the same silent professionalism. They were cousins, Jared had told him and had been with the Padaleckis for decades. It made sense; both had broad shoulders and barrel-like chests, dark hair and neatly trimmed beards. They didn’t talk, looked on impassive to all things happening, but now Jensen thought there was a distinct hint of a disapproving frown around Willy’s mouth.

 

“Great, you’re pissed at me now too?” Jensen asked, but Willy didn’t react. Well, maybe his lips tightened a bit more.

 

“Dude, it’s not like I want to leave him! We just don’t—we just wouldn’t work, okay? And I’m not gonna get killed because of him.”

 

Willy looked at him in the rear-view mirror. “You really think the boss wouldn’t protect you? That we wouldn’t protect you?”

 

For a tiny moment Jensen felt like shit. Willy had said it like he meant it.

 

“It’s complicated,” Jensen said sullenly. Willy snorted and turned his attention back on the road. Jensen didn’t think he imagined the temperature in the car dropping several degrees. Good. It was always easier when the employees supported the boss’ relationship.

 

At the airport, he stood at the counter for a while, before buying a ticket to New York. He knew some people there, would be able to find work and as far as they knew, Jared’s New York connections were decent. If he wanted to check up on Jensen he’d be able to.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


Jensen was pretty sure he was being followed from the moment he left JFK. So he checked into a semi-nice hotel in the village and made his way to Christopher Street. Jensen Campbell would definitely drink and fuck a too emotional hook-up out of his system. Jensen didn’t really feel like the sex part, but it couldn’t hurt to make Jared jealous. Plus, he needed a drink. Or ten. Actually, Jensen felt like drinking himself into unconsciousness and sleeping for three days, screw the job. It was messing with his head so much worse than he’d thought.

 

He stumbled into the first bar with a rainbow in the window and ordered himself a scotch.

 

“Leave the bottle,” he told the bartender, like the worst cliché in the history of pining, but right now he didn’t give a shit.

 

“Sugar, I can do that, but do you maybe want to write down your address, so I can call you a cab when you pass out on my bar?”

 

Jensen looked at the bartender, a big, bald guy with kind eyes, and found himself nodding. Who knew, he might actually need it.

 

Jensen downed the first three glasses in a row, but he just couldn’t shut off his brain. It kept circling back to the last few weeks in endless loops, to his time with Jared, and not only the sex. Jensen was glad for that, because this was the first time he’d ever used his body like that for a job and he didn’t want to examine it too closely, that it didn’t bother him half as much as it should.

 

Several guys came onto him, but Jensen sent them away. He just couldn’t stomach it. After a while he wasn’t even sure if he was being watched anymore, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

 

If he’d met Jared under different circumstances, he’d be head over heels. Jensen had no illusions. He had standards when it came to boyfriends and so far he hadn’t found anyone who could fulfill them.

 

Jared was smart and powerful, he controlled himself and the people around him with ease, which apparently really turned Jensen’s crank. He had a funny and kind side, was loyal to a fault and despite his criminal endeavors, he still had a working moral compass. Sort of. God, Jensen was so screwed in the head.

 

In the end he decided that not getting laid in the time before meeting Jared was one of the reasons he’d fallen into bed with him so effortlessly and he told Burt as much. The bartender nodded in understanding.

 

“‘m not kidding,” Jensen slurred because he felt it necessary to get this point across. “Seven and a half inches. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

 

“Well,” Burt said and took a drink, “girth matters, too.”

 

Jensen made an approximate circle with his fingers and Burt whistled. “Sugar, tell me again what the problem is?”

 

Jensen threw up his hands, toppling over the whiskey bottle. Fortunately, it was almost empty. “He’s no good for me. I think. I mean, my job... and his job… and then there’s this guy and I just—there are lines, you know?”

 

Burt nodded.

 

“There’s one side of the line and another. I’m on this side, see, and I wanna stay here. But with Jared…”

 

“You’ll be on the other side?” Burt asked.

 

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. And it’s not a good side. I think. Fuck.”

  
  
  


When he woke up the next morning his head was pounding. It took him a moment to realize that there was actually someone banging on the door.

 

Jensen crawled out of bed, and when he looked through the peephole he almost had a heart attack.

 

“The fuck are you doing here?” he asked when he’d ripped the door open.

 

Director Morgan walked in, casually dressed and ball cap pulled deep over his face.

 

“Relax, no one noticed me. But after your little… party last night, I thought a heart to heart was in order. What the fuck is wrong with you? Because that last night—that wasn’t a performance, not even you are that good.”

 

Jensen scoffed and walked into the small bathroom. “It’s my business how I blow off steam. You wasted your time, I have to shower.”

 

Unfortunately Morgan was still there when he came out, but at least he felt halfway human now.

 

Jensen sighed. “What do you want?”

 

“I want to know what’s going on. Why are you in New York?”

 

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Jensen said and went to his duffel, searching for fresh clothes.

 

“I thought we covered that with your little trip to San Francisco. Not to put you under any pressure, but we could really use some info,” Morgan said, voice strident.

 

Jensen violently pulled a pair of jeans out of his bag. “Yeah well, he’s still suspicious and so is his team. Besides, I gave you the info about the rifle. Not my fault if you can’t figure something out. Look, you recruited me because I’m good at what I do. So let me tell you, you can’t push it. I won’t have any real intel for another few months, provided he really does fall in love with me or whatever. Because what I’m doing? Not so fucking easy.”

 

Jensen started pacing up and down, anger rushing to the surface.

 

“I am fucking the guy! I’m trying to make him fall in love with me! Do you know how fucking personal that is? And yeah, undercover you always lie, but this… I have to be a different person from the moment I wake up, because I wake up in his bed!”

 

“You sleep in his bed?” Morgan asked perking up.

 

Jensen scoffed. “What do you think I am, an amateur? Look, I’m getting it done, but you have to let me get it done my way. You showing up here unannounced when Jared has me under surveillance isn’t helping. And if I need to blow off steam? Well that’s nobody’s fucking business but my own.”

 

“If you blew your cover—” 

 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jensen interrupted Morgan, “I whined to the bartender so hard about my evil awesome boyfriend, if anything, I cemented it.”

 

Morgan leaned back, scrutinizing him, then he nodded. “Well, Jim said you were the best. Just don’t forget to call me every once in awhile, even if you don’t have anything big.”

 

Jensen just snorted. “We done now? Campbell needs a big cup of coffee to cure the hangover.”

 

“You always talk about your cover in the third person?” Morgan asked.

 

“You gotta keep your distance somehow.”

  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  


Jensen had no trouble picking out the occasional guy following him. Never the same and no pros at tailing. Probably the local muscle of one of Jared’s business acquaintances.

 

Jensen spent two days wandering the Met, trying to clear his mind. Campbell was so close to his own personality it was much harder to draw the line than usual. 

 

On the third day, he met up with Samantha Smith, an old acquaintance from his New York days. She didn’t have anything high profile, but a client of hers wanted to add another Manet to his collection and Jensen felt it was okay to relieve a rich asshole of one of his many paintings to protect his cover.

 

When he went out to pick up a suit as a cover for the break-in, Morgan called him on the phone he’d left him during his last visit.

 

“So,” the director said, “Padalecki is in a bad mood.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Oh yeah. Lots of yelling, someone who made a minor mistake disappeared, it seems permanently. You know how it goes when powerful guys with a low threshold for violence get angry.”

 

Jensen cursed. He really hoped Jared hadn’t killed the guy. “Thanks, this is good news.”

 

“Yeah, we thought so, too. Just don’t stay away too long, don’t want him finding someone else to get over you.”

 

“Don’t worry, Campbell is quite unforgettable.”

 

Jensen’s step was definitely much lighter when he went to his job.

  
  
  


When he got home that night, painting already dropped off at Samantha’s, his phone rang.

 

“That was quick,” a dark voice snarled.

 

“Jared?”

 

“Oh, you remember my name.” Jared was angry and he was slurring. Drunk dialing, Jensen could work with that.

 

“I have a good memory,” Jensen deadpanned. “Still not sure what you’re talking about, though.”

 

There was a pause, before Jared answered. “You move fast, is all I’m saying. Didn’t think that older and golf-obsessed would be your style.”

 

“What?”

 

“The party you went to tonight!” Jared snarled. “After everyone had left, you stayed with the guy. Now why would you do that, huh?”

 

“Well,” Jensen drawled, enjoying the assurance of Jared’s jealousy. “He had a lovely Manet. The party was just an in, I mean seriously, the caviar was subpar and the champagne was stale.”

 

Again, there was silence on the line.

 

“Jared... were you jealous?”

 

“No.”

 

Jensen laughed. “You were. I’m flattered, but we talked about this.”

 

Jared was quiet for so long, Jensen feared he’d passed out.

 

“We went to the Nine tonight, you know, that club we never got around to going to? Anyway, Chad chased this one girl pretty hard, but she wasn’t really into him and… anyway it ended with her dumping her drink on his head and I thought you would've liked to have seen it.”

 

“Chad getting his ass handed to him by a girl?” Jensen asked with a smile. “I would pay top dollar for that.”

 

“Thought so.”

 

There was silence again. It was cute really, that Jared had thought of him like that. And now that Jared had given him something, Jensen needed to offer something in return.

 

“Listen, Jared, I—” 

 

He was interrupted by the dial tone. Jared had hung up. Jensen went to bed with his phone, wondering if he should send Jared a message, until he fell asleep.

 

When he opened his door the next morning to a cup of coffee and a bunch of printed pictures showing a furious Chad doused in alcohol, he made up his mind. Or rather Campbell made up his mind. Fuck.

 

He let Samantha get him another job in Philadelphia and after stealing a rich housewife’s jewelry, he boarded a plane to Chicago. Time to go all in.

  
  


 

 

  
  
  


It was 2 p.m. and they were on their fifth beer. They were playing Madden and Rosey was kicking his ass, but Chad didn’t really pay a lot of attention.

 

He didn’t flinch when he heard shouting from Jared’s office, but it was a close call. Even the dogs had abandoned their master and his foul mood, choosing to hang out with Rosey and Chad instead.

 

“I don’t give a fuck!” Jared yelled. “You fix this mess or you’re fired!”

 

Rosey tilted his head. “I thought he was on the phone with the head of the office’s maintenance crew?”

 

Chad nodded. “Apparently there’s a leaky faucet in the bathroom.”

 

“Wow,” Rosey whistled. “Now that is definitely grounds for firing.”

 

Chad shook his head, “Dude, this morning he fired one of the programmers because he was surfin’ the net from his workstation. And when Fred came up to tell him he was gonna be late with the payment this month, ‘cause a storm delayed his shipment, but the money would be here in two days, Jared knocked two of his teeth out. I swear, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

 

“Usually he has better control of his anger,” Rosey said.

 

“Ah, but now all bets are off,” Misha said, strolling in from the garden.

 

He plopped down on the sofa next to Chad, too close to be socially acceptable and definitely too close for Chad’s comfort, but Misha didn’t think much of personal boundaries.

 

“Our fearless leader is floating in the wild ocean of his own emotions without an anchor to ground him.”

 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Chad asked.

 

“What our resident loony-toon means to say is that the boss got it bad,” Rosey explained.

 

Chad snorted and drained his beer. “Fuck you, I know that. I’m actually considering flying to New York and dragging Campbell back here, just so the glowering stops.”

 

Chad’s phone buzzed before he could say anything else. The number of the front gate flashed across his phone.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Sir, the boss isn’t answering and Campbell is here. Should I...?”

 

“Yes, fuck yes. Let him in.” Chad hung up and grinned into the round. “We are saved.”

 

“Campbell?” Rosey asked and when Chad nodded, he jumped up and jogged to the door. “Thank fuck.”

 

Chad followed him more slowly, stepping into the foyer as Rosey drew Campbell into a hug. “Thank God you’re back, man, he’s been in a shitty mood.”

 

Campbell smiled his Sphinx-like smile, the one that still made Chad uneasy, then he looked to Misha and Chad.

 

“Boys,” he drawled in that deep, smooth voice of his, “looking good.”

 

So did Campbell. Dressed in his usual tight jeans and weird designer shirt, Chad was glad to see he had at least dark circles under his eyes. But his hair was impeccably styled like he’d just rolled out of bed and his smile was still toothpaste commercial white.

 

“So, you’re back,” Chad said, having no trouble keeping his voice cold. He might like Campbell and he definitely wanted him and Jared to work, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give him shit for leaving.

 

“I am,” Campbell said, rubbing his neck. “Look, I get it if you want to cut me out, but you gotta understand my side here.”

 

“I try,” Chad said, “but it’s hard when you’re keeping secrets.”

 

Campbell flinched and looked to the ground. It was a good thing the guy was such an obviously bad liar, otherwise Chad would have to worry.

 

“My whole life is nothing but secrets, but they won’t affect Jared,” was all Campbell offered, and Chad once again admired his backbone. Well, there had to be a reason Jared was so smitten with him; it couldn’t only be his good looks.

 

“Want a beer?” he asked, extending the olive branch.

 

Campbell accepted with a smile.

 

When they stood in the kitchen, cold ones in their hands, Chad extended his hand.

 

“Chad Michael Murray,” he officially introduced himself. “I’m gonna officially welcome you to the family, Jensen.”

 

Jensen took his hand and shook it with a pleasantly firm grip. “Jensen Alexander Campbell. You’re gonna give me the baseball bat speech now?”

 

Chad grinned. “Nah. You know we’ll cut you into tiny pieces if you do anything to hurt him.”

 

Jensen nodded. “I know. And trust me, nothing is further from my mind.”

 

Chad believed him, but there was still something off about the fucker. Aldis hadn’t found anything on him, but after years of living in the streets, Chad had learned to trust his instincts.

 

“Whatever you’re hiding, I hope for your sake it won’t affect Jared, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

 

“I can take care of my own business,” Jensen snapped.

 

Bingo. He was hiding something. Well, Chad was always right about these things. He grinned and walked out into the living room. He would keep an eye on Jensen but whatever was up in the thief’s past, Chad doubted it could pose a threat to Jared.

 

“Chad, where the fuck is the contract?” Jared’s voice boomed from his office.

 

“What contract?”

 

“The one for the waterfront property. I was supposed to have it today and I swear if I don’t get updates, heads are gonna roll, I’m not joking. I want this fucking shit done yesterday and if—” 

 

Jared stopped dead when he spotted Jensen. 

 

The thief grinned broadly. “If you’re done yelling, maybe you wanna come over and say hi to your favorite thief?”

 

“What are you doing here?” Jared asked, voice deadly calm.

 

“Oh, you know, this and that.”

 

“Everybody out. Now!” Jared's voice thundered through the room.

 

They left the room through the kitchen door, but Chad didn’t let it fall shut. Like kids that should be in bed but wanted to hear what mommy and daddy were fighting about, they huddled around the door, listening in.

 

“So?” Jared asked.

 

“So what?” Jensen’s voice was light.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Jensen asked, and they could practically hear the eyeroll.

 

Silence. Then— “Alright! Fine! I fucking missed you, okay? And this is probably the stupidest fucking thing I have ever done in a long list of stupid fucking things, but if your offer still stands then I’m gonna stay.”

 

“What about your work?”

 

“I’ll leave occasionally for jobs.”

 

“But you’ll come back?”

 

Another pause, then Jensen sighed. “Yeah. I’ll come back.”

 

There was silence, then soft steps crossing the room and then— 

 

“Okay,” Misha whispered. “I think if we don’t want a show, we should go now.”

 

Yeah, there were things Chad did not need to see. “How about drinks and a round of pool down in the pub?”

 

Rosey nodded in agreement, while Misha shook his head. “I think I’m gonna celebrate this joyous occasion with some fireworks.”

 

Rosey rolled his eyes and Chad said nothing. Misha was a great guy—as long as he got to blow something up on a regular basis.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


Jensen hadn’t thought it would be so easy, but it was. When he went to put his duffel in the guestroom, Jared rolled his eyes and told him not to be stupid. Jensen didn’t hide his smug grin and went upstairs. There was some bickering when he wanted to move Jared’s clothes around to have more space, only to discover that half of the walk-in closet was full of clothes from his college days that Jared hadn’t worn in years.

 

“This stuff needs to go Jared, I need space for my clothes.”

 

Jared gave a long-suffering sigh, but agreed to oversee the clearing out. Predictably, he got bored after not even ten minutes and Jensen only got him to focus with promises of a blowjob. Jensen also decided to keep Jared’s Stanford shirts and hoodies. He had a feeling Jared would like to see him in them.

  
  


The first few days, Jared only spent a couple of hours in his downtown office, opting to spend time with Jensen instead, taking him to fancy restaurants, parties and fundraisers. Jensen finally had to put on the suit he’d been dreading, but he tried to console himself that a cop would never wear Armani. It was alright, but he preferred the long walks with the dogs and lazy evenings on the couch. As long as they didn’t talk about Jared’s illegal endeavours, Jared was good company and an intelligent conversationalist.

 

Jared’s entourage welcomed him with open arms. Chad was suspicious, knew that Jensen was hiding something but had obviously deemed his little thief secrets non-threatening. Jensen was glad; he didn’t need Chad on his ass about the whole Heyerdahl situation. So when Chad asked Jensen to go dancing with him, Jensen agreed. When Misha invited him to do yoga of all things, he agreed. He actually enjoyed the calm the workout brought him. And when Rosey pulled him into some gardening duty in Sam’s vegetable patch, Jensen got his hands dirty and planted tomatoes. He became part of Jared’s group, his friends.

 

He didn't know when he'd started thinking of them as Rosey, Misha or Chad. These people had grown on him and it was dangerous. They might seem nice, but they were still criminals. They were the enemy, the target of his investigation. He’d do well to remember that.

  
  
  


Jensen took another job, this time in Atlanta and got a pissed-off call from Alona, asking why he went on so many heists.

 

“I just don’t like it when you work so much, you know?” she bitched him out. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have a free pass to steal every fucking painting in the country.”

 

“It’s my job,” Jensen shot back. “Besides, if you had warned me earlier about… needing more money, I could’ve handled this differently. But like this, I need to get two hundred grand together.”

 

He meant Heyerdahl of course, but since he couldn’t be sure Jared wasn’t listening, he and Alona talked in code. Just in case. Jared finding out he was hiding a sister was better than him realizing Jensen was a Fed.

 

Alona sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought I had more time to pay the tuition, I’m sorry, I should've made sure.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “Listen, I gotta go, but you gotta get off my ass about the jobs, I only steal from those who can afford it, anyway. Just, let it go, dear sister.”

 

“Fine, oh brother of mine,” she said, “But I don’t like it. And as soon as you have the money together…”

 

After the call, he dumped the phone in a public trash can and continued with his riverfront walk.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

Summer was in full swing and Jensen gladly took advantage of the pool. It was a good way to keep in shape and it was relaxing. He’d have to ask Jared to turn on the heating system when fall came, but he probably had two months left of good swimming weather.

 

He looked up when he heard sounds of people coming closer. Jared and Chad were approaching, both wearing suits, jackets thrown back and shoulder holsters on display. Not good.

 

Jensen got out of the pool and reached for a towel. Jared’s face was impassive and Chad glared.

 

“Did I miss something?” Jensen asked.

 

“I don’t think so,” Jared said.

 

“Okay. Is there a specific reason you’re pissed then?”

 

“Yeah, it’s because  _ we _ missed something.”

 

Jensen did not like the sound of that. “And what would that be?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice even.

 

“Well,” Chad said. “There were a few deals recently that went bad. Someone had information he wasn’t supposed to have and handed it to the Feds. Their little task force is all over our business and we can’t have that now, can we? So we had to dig around a bit, see where the leak was.”

 

“You’re FBI,” Jared said, pulling his gun and pointing it straight at Jensen.

 

Jensen felt like he was being doused with cold water. Like serrated blades, fear cut through his entire body. For a moment, he stood frozen, heart missing a beat. There was no way out. Jensen took a breath, exhaled. When there was no way out, you had to go deeper. Jensen gave himself over to Campbell's persona. Inexperienced undercover agents tended to crack under the pressure of a true accusation; a good undercover agent just sold his cover harder. 

 

He fought to keep his expression between a mix of amused and pissed. “Oh, now you’re just insulting me. I could never be a Fed; have you seen the suits they wear? They’re hideous!”

 

“It still amazes me how you can be so utterly unafraid with a gun pointed at you,” Jared said, a hint of fond exasperation on his face.

 

“Why? I have no reason to be afraid, I did nothing wrong.” Jensen made a contemptuous hand gesture. “So whatever information you have is either false or incomplete.”

 

He had to stall, figure out what they knew.

 

“I’m not sure whether I’m gonna forgive you for making me the first suspect, though.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jared’s upper lips curled when he spoke, almost snarled at Jensen.

 

Jensen tilted his head back in annoyance. “So we haven’t known each other long but, seriously, when is this going to end, huh? The endless suspicions, the distrust! And let’s not forget that  _ you _ were the one who chased me!” Jensen glared, then changed his expression into a cocky grin when Jared remained impassive. “And seriously Jared, when was the last time someone like me worked for the Feds?”

 

Jared smiled grimly. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but the evidence is pretty clear.”

 

“Evidence?” Jensen scoffed. “What evidence?”

 

“Your fake birth certificate for one. It’s a good fake, but a fake nonetheless.”

 

Shit. Jensen’s heart went into overdrive.

 

“You had someone check out my actual birth certificate? Paranoid much?” Jensen turned to the table to buy time. He picked up his beer. He could spin this, he could explain the birth certificate. But Jared never lowered the gun.

 

“It’s obviously justified. And I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

 

“Jared, I’m a thief,” Jensen said exasperatedly. “I steal pretty valuable stuff. At some point in my career I was bound to piss off someone powerful.”

 

“Like a Chicago mob boss?” Chad asked with a wry smile.

 

Jensen nodded. “Exactly. And knowledge is power, so the less people know about me, the better.”

 

It was thin, as far as explanations went, but Jensen didn't have anything better right now.

 

“So you faked your birth certificate? Your whole identity? And told Mike a fake growing-up story?”

 

Jensen took a long drag of his bottle. “He told you about that, huh?”

 

Jared gave him a flat look.

 

“Of course he did.” Jensen sighed. “Well if you must know, I didn’t lie. It’s all true, just the names are different.”

 

“So what, you don’t want anyone to know your real name to protect the people in your past, people that you care for?” Jared asked slightly incredulous. 

 

Jensen set his mouth in a hard line and stayed silent.

 

“I find that hard to believe, considering what I know about your parents,” Jared remarked.

 

“Hey! So, yeah, my father was a deadbeat asshole but just because my mother was never nominated for mother of the year, doesn’t mean she deserves to die. She did the best she could.” Jensen thought of his own mother and didn’t need to fake the anger.

 

“Say I believe that.”

 

“You better.”

 

“How do you explain your secret phone call?”

 

Shit. Jared had heard him talking to Alona.

 

“Secret phone call? Jeez, Jared, you make it sound like I’m on a super secret spy mission. None of my calls are secret, you can check my phone if you want.” Jensen reached for his phone.

 

“I’m not talking about that phone.” Jared’s voice had turned to ice and anger was sparking in his eyes. “I’m talking about the burner phone you bought yesterday and destroyed after you made one call with it. A call that was routed through several servers all over the world, before the trail went dead at a number in Australia. Don’t try to play me, sweetheart. You know how it goes, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and you die.”

 

Jensen let his shoulders sag and desperation made its way into his expression. It wasn’t ideal to play this card so early in the game, but it was the only thing that could save him now. Probably. Maybe. Going with the rule that a lie was more believable the closer it was to the truth, Jensen used his real fear to sell it.

 

“Dammit, Jared, that’s none of your business. I don’t snoop around in your business and I expect the same courtesy from you.”

 

Jared cocked his gun. “Not good enough. You have one minute to explain, or I put a bullet in your brain and feed you to the fish.”

 

Jensen angrily stabbed a finger in Jared’s direction. “I swear to God, Jared, if anything happens to her because of this, I’m going to kill you!”

 

“Her?”

 

Jensen cursed and dragged his hand through his hair. He looked around to see who was watching and when he was sure that only Jared and Chad could hear him he said, “My sister. I was talking to my sister, okay?”

 

“A sister? I didn’t know you had a sister.” Jared didn’t lower the gun.

 

“Well, that’s the whole point of this spiel. No one is supposed to know about her, so she doesn’t get dragged into any of my shit.”

 

“And you expect me to believe that?” Jared asked. He obviously didn’t, because the gun was still pointed at Jensen’s face.

 

Jensen raised his hands from his sides. “Yeah, I do. What do you want from me? I just told you something I haven’t told anyone in years. If you don’t believe me, shoot me. If you do, let me go back to my swim. Either way, make a decision now, this is really starting to piss me off.”

 

Jared huffed and pulled a phone out of his pocket. One of his own countless burner phones, no doubt. He threw it to Jensen, who managed to catch it despite his surprise.

 

“Call her,” Jared ordered.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. If you have a sister, call her now.” Jared’s voice left no room to argue.

 

Jensen could only hope that Alona would play her role perfectly. They had talked about this beforehand in case it came up. He hoped their planning would hold up now. He looked at the time and did the math. Melbourne was 17 hours ahead of them which meant it was now 1 a.m. over there.

 

Jensen shot Jared a glare to hide his worry and dialed the number. While it was still ringing, Jared plucked the phone from his hand, put it on speaker and gave it back to him. Great. Hopefully Alona would remember the careful-someone-is-listening code word.

 

“Hello?” Alona picked up with a sleepy voice. Perfect.

 

“Hey, honey. Ah shit, did I wake you?” He shot Jared another glare.

 

“Jensen? Yeah, of course you did. It’s one o’clock and I have classes tomorrow. Is everything okay?” she asked with concern in her voice.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry sis, everything’s alright, I just miscalculated again. I called to see how your exam went.”

 

Alona yawned pretty convincingly. “Good, I think. I won’t get the results until next week, though. How are you doing?”

 

Jensen shot Jared a calculating look. The gun was still pointed at him—Jared wasn’t sold yet.

 

“I’m good.” As long as he didn’t give Alona the all-clear, she’d stay on the line, trying to figure out what was going wrong.

 

“That’s good,” she said, only hesitating slightly. “You still staying with that guy?”

 

Jared looked at him expectantly and Chad smirked.

 

“Yeah, I am.”

 

“The last time you stayed with a guy for longer than a week was in high school. Is it getting serious?”

 

Chad’s and Jared’s grins grew simultaneously.

 

“I don’t know, Kelly. It’s way too early to tell.”

 

“Says you,” Alona said, “but I know you and you’re never like this about a guy.” Good, Alona was helping him sell his cover. “So tell me, what does he do for a living? Is he, you know, like you?”

 

Jensen sighed. “Not exactly. He is more of a... businessman. But he knows what I do and it’s not a problem.”

 

“Okay,” she answered. “Just—is he a good guy?”

 

Jensen huffed. No. No, Jared Padalecki was not a good guy. Not at all. He was a criminal. A murderer.

 

Then why did it feel like the truth when he answered, “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

 

“And you’re sure you’re okay? You never forget the time difference.”

 

Jensen shot Jared a glance, saw his weapon had been lowered and gave Alona the everything’s-okay signal. “Yeah, sorry. Too much beer I guess.”

 

Alona snorted. “You’re unbelievable. Just, send me a picture, okay?”

 

“Yeah okay. Sleep well, sis. Love you.”

 

“You too, Bean.”

 

When Jensen looked back to Jared, he was met with a curious expression. “Bean?”

 

Jensen looked up to the sky. Of course he had picked up on that.

 

“Seriously?” Chad asked gleefully. “Please tell me your nickname used to be Jellybean!”

 

Jensen fixed Chad with a death glare. “No it wasn’t. It was Jennybean and my sister called me that when she was five. And if you ever use it or make fun of it, I will cut your dick off while you sleep.”

 

Chad looked shocked at first, but then nodded. “Alright, I can respect that.”

 

Now it was Jensen’s turn to be shocked. “Really?”

 

“Course. Sisters’ nicknames are un-mockable.”

 

Jared had put his gun away, and now he grinned at Jensen. “Who would’ve thought. You as a caring big brother.”

 

Jensen just raised an eyebrow. “That so hard to believe?”

 

Jared tilted his head. “No, not really. There’s a lot more under all that badass, I-couldn’t-care-less-and-I-just-love-money attitude than you want people to see.”

 

“Which you don’t know the half of,” Jensen bit out and went back into the pool. He decided he’d ignore Jared for the rest of the day.

 

“Oh, don’t pout, sweetheart,” Jared called after him. “You were the obvious suspect, I had to make sure.”

 

Jensen dove in without responding.

  
  
  


 

 

  
  


Jared came home late and joined Jensen on the couch, letting his hand fall heavily on Jensen’s neck. “C’mere. I had a shitty day. I could use some loving right now.”

 

Jensen weaseled out of Jared’s hold. “I’m going to bed.”

 

“It’s early.”

 

“Yeah, well I’m tired.”

 

“Alright.” Jared got up from the couch.

 

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Jensen turned back to Jared, letting all the tension from the afternoon come out in ice cold fury. “‘Cause if you think you’re getting any action tonight you’re sorely mistaken. Be glad this is your house and not mine, because then I would make you sleep on the couch. And let me tell you something else, the next time you point a gun at me, I am gone, you understand?”

 

Jensen almost laughed at Jared’s stunned face before he turned around and sashayed out of the room.

 

He went directly to bed, but he couldn’t sleep for a long time. He had known that he would be tested again and again in the early stages, but it was getting to him. The whole thing with Jared had progressed so much faster than he’d anticipated. The next weeks would be just as draining as the previous ones—he was supposed to pretend to fall in love with Jared, he still had to meet Cortese and Harris, and now he also had to let Morgan know that Jared was on to his other mole. It didn’t help that Jensen had no idea who it was, but maybe Morgan would tell him. Not that it mattered, in his current position Jensen wouldn’t be able to protect him anyway. Besides, he had other problems.

 

Heyerdahl would be getting out of prison soon, and after Jensen’s last contact with Williams, he had no doubt that the fixer would give him up. So in order to play his part right, he needed to get some more cash together. It wouldn’t do to ask Jared for the money. It was too early.

 

Jensen started to doubt there would ever come a time when Jared would care enough for him to bail him out of anything. His willingness to shoot him today was not encouraging. And yes, it had only been little more than a month since their initial meeting, but after the persistence with which Jared had pursued him, he’d thought there was something more there than physical attraction. Maybe that was just wishful thinking and Jared had merely chased him so hard because he’d been so reluctant. Maybe now that he got what he wanted, he would tire of Jensen just as fast as he had of his other conquests.

 

Jensen tried to shut out the worrying thoughts, but it didn’t work. He needed to find something more to keep Jared interested. Tomorrow though, because now he couldn’t think straight. He closed his eyes and finally felt sleep pulling him under.

  
  
  


Jensen woke when Jared came to bed. He heard the soft shuffling noises as he undressed and then the quiet click of the bathroom door. Jensen drifted, not asleep anymore but not fully awake yet.

 

Jared came back into the bedroom, turned the light in the bathroom off before he fully opened the door so Jensen wasn’t woken by the light. He carefully climbed into bed and settled in next to Jensen. Jensen was more awake now, aware of every little move Jared made beside him. He could tell that Jared was lying on his back, which was a position he mostly slept in. The last nights, though, he’d had Jensen’s head on his chest. Jensen kept his breathing deep and even and when Jared didn’t move, he could feel sleep tugging at him again.

 

The bed rustled. Jensen felt Jared moving, how he carefully aligned himself at Jensen’s back, legs bending to fit against his own, groin pressing against his ass, stomach to back, collarbones against shoulders. The touch was light, like Jared didn’t dare to come closer, but in his sleep-fogged brain Jensen  _ wanted _ .

 

He felt Jared’s breath at the back of his neck, he was coming closer and then lips touched the skin behind his ear. A soft, feathery touch, full of tenderness. The mouth stayed on his skin, he felt the tip of a nose pressing against his ear and a whispered exhale. “Sorry.”

 

Jensen felt a smile tugging at his lips and succumbed back to sleep.

  
  
  


The next morning, there were five brands of an extremely fancy coffee syrup waiting for Jensen. He knew that was the closest thing to a real apology he was going to get, so he let Jared kiss his cheek and went swimming. When he was done, still dripping wet, he stopped next to the breakfast table. Jared eyed him hungrily, but didn't make a move.

 

“Good. You learned your lesson,” Jensen said.

 

Jared’s nostrils flared but that was the only indication that Jensen was pushing it.

 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said and walked to the sliding door. He stopped when there was no sound behind him.

 

“You coming or what?” he called over his shoulder and walked into the house. He wasn’t even halfway through the living room when he heard Jared step inside.

 

In the shower, Jared didn’t fuck him. Just took the shampoo and started washing Jensen's hair. Jensen gave him a look that said,  _ I know this is your crippled form of an apology _ . Jared gave him a crooked grin and reached for the body wash. He soaped Jensen up without saying a word. Drew him in and let a hand glide over his ass. Jensen widened his stance to accommodate his hand and Jared slowly opened him up. When he was done, he rinsed them off and pulled Jensen out of the shower.

 

“Let’s take this into the bedroom.”

 

Jensen arched an eyebrow but followed Jared to the bed.

 

Jared pushed him down carefully, and kissed him deeply. He pushed inside without ever disconnecting their lips. He fucked Jensen slow and deep, angling his hips to brush Jensen's prostate with every stroke. Languidly and torturously, he fucked Jensen’s brains out.

 

Afterwards Jensen burrowed into Jared’s chest. They’d never really cuddled before and Jensen thought now might be a good time for the next step.

 

“I knew there was a giant cuddle monster hiding behind that cool facade,” Jared said, teasing lilt to his voice.

 

Jensen threw his leg between Jared’s and buried his toes under his knee. “Shut up.”

  
  
  


 

 

  
  


There were only so many shopping trips one could go on, even if one pretended to be a high maintenance, fashion-loving art thief. But Jensen needed time on his own, away from the house, so he let Willy drive him into the city almost every day. It had been only a few days since the FBI scare and he’d already called Morgan, letting him know that his other undercover agent was giving himself away by moving too quickly. And what the hell was another undercover agent doing in there anyway?

 

Morgan didn’t sound happy when he explained that he couldn’t stop trying but would tell the agent to take it easy. Jensen wasn’t too hopeful so he’d keep an eye out of his own.

 

He’d just walked out of a second-hand record store in a side alley, when a van pulled up next to him and the side door opened. A dark-haired guy was pointing a gun at him and smiling.

 

“Mr. Campbell. A word please.”

 

Jensen recognized the guy. His name was Milo Something-long-and-Italian and he worked for Jared. Either Jared was really onto him this time, or something very fishy was going on. But a gun to the head was a gun to the head, so he got into the van.

 

The guy handed him a bag. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

 

Jensen sighed. “I really hope this has been washed recently.”

 

As soon as his world went dark, his hands were zip tied. The drive wasn’t too long and if Jensen wasn’t wrong, they were taking the general direction into the Bedford Park area. Lots of warehouses down there, not a lot of people. Ideal for interrogating and killing people. Great.

  
  
  


They dragged him out of the van and into a warehouse where they pulled the bag from his head. The guy pushed him down into a chair, a bright light shining into his face. What the hell was going on here?

 

“Mr. Campbell,” a female voice said. “Welcome. I’m sorry about this, but I thought we should have a chat.”

 

“Sure,” Jensen smiled. “Although you didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you could’ve just called.”

 

“I think not. Now, my proposition is simple. You’ve recently taken up residence in the bed of one Jared Padalecki. I am very interested in Mr. Padalecki’s life, so I want you to tell me everything I want to know. And then you will take this little bug here with you and plant it in the house.”

 

Was this Milo guy a traitor? Jensen wouldn’t have thought it was possible. The more pressing matter was how he would get out of here, alive and preferably unharmed.

 

“Why would I do that?” he asked, stalling.

 

“Because if you don’t, we’ll kill you.” Jensen noticed a slight New York accent.

 

“Then Jared will kill you.” With his hands tied, there was no way he could reach his phone. And wouldn't that suck, getting killed by Jared’s enemies.

 

The woman laughed. “He’d have to find me first.”

 

Jensen grinned. “He will. There will be no place for you to hide.”

 

“Shouldn’t your bigger concern be how you’ll be dead?” Milo asked.

 

Trying to get his hands free wasn’t working—they were tied too tightly. Even if he managed to get to Milo before the guy knew what hit him, it stood to reason the woman had a gun. Still, he had to try. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

 

Besides, if he was lucky Willy was already looking for him. Even if his driver dropped him off downtown, he was never far away. Jensen needed to buy some time.

 

“Say, I agree to spy on Jared. What’s going to stop me from telling him about you as soon as you let me go?” he asked the woman, ignoring Milo. She was clearly the one in charge.

 

“Ah, no you won’t,” the woman said with the security of someone who knew they were holding all the cards. “Because if you do tell Jared about our little agreement, I will get one of my men on a plane to Sydney. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

 

How the hell did this woman know about his fake-sister? It was impossible— 

 

Jensen’s eyes were slowly getting used to the light. He still couldn’t see her face, could just make out a short and slim figure with dark hair and very high heels. He couldn’t believe it. Now the only question was why. First, he’d build some rapport with her though.

 

“You hurt her, you die,” Jensen told Genevieve Cortese.

 

“You don’t scare me, Jensen.”

 

“Jared should.”

 

Cortese took a step forward. “She’ll still be dead.”

 

Jensen leaned forward on the table. “You first. Because no matter what you do, I will never rat Jared out, never. Your dead body will hit the ground before your assassin can get on the plane.”

 

Cortese took another step, mirroring Jensen’s posture. “That’s if we let you out of here alive.”

 

“You will,” Jensen said confidently. “Because if you kill me, Jared will hunt you down. Now, is your life really worth some insignificant information?”

 

She straightened up and huffed. “Jensen, do you really want to risk your sister’s life for Padalecki?”

 

“Not that it’d be much of a risk, but yeah.” Jensen leaned back, squinting past the light. “I’m not a snitch. And you are a dead woman.”

 

“I don’t think you grasp the severity of the situation,” Cortese said. She walked closer, her heels clicking on the floor. “Your sister will be dead. I will get one of my men on that plane right now.”

 

Jensen let all the emotions he usually bottled up so deep in side come to the surface. “You touch her and I will fucking rip you apart. And if you kill me, then Jared will. He’ll hang you from the rafters and Misha will make a fire under your feet until you’re just a scorched heap of ash.”

 

She came closer, leaned on the table and Jensen could almost make out her face. “How about we find a solution where we all live?”

 

Jensen pretended to finally recognize her for a moment, then he leaned back in his chair. “No deal. And I have to say, Miss Cortese,” he said with a smile, “I was wondering when we’d meet. Although I’m a little surprised. Jared always spoke highly of you, not like you were a traitorous bitch.”

 

Silence, then the light was shut off. Jensen blinked and then Cortese’s face came into focus. “How did you know it was me?”

 

He nodded down at her shoes. “You have a thing for Louboutins. That, you knowing about Kelly, and your New York accent, well, it wasn’t a big leap. The question is, what the fuck are you doing? Jared will kill you.”

 

Cortese scoffed. “You think I’m the traitor? Oh, that’s rich. You’re the guy who weaseled his way into his bed, a guy that has more holes in his past than Swiss cheese. And that getaway from the Feds five years ago? That smelled awfully like an inside job, like someone made a deal for his freedom. Now I’m pretty sure someone talked to the Feds recently and once a snitch, always a snitch.”

 

She was good, Jensen had to give her that. But for his mission to work, he needed her on his side.

 

“This was a  _ test _ ? You’re fucking kidding me, right? Untie me right now!”

 

Milo stepped forward and cut the ties. Jensen fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed. Jared picked up on the second ring, but Jensen didn’t let him get a word in. Jensen Campbell was pissed.

 

“You know, I expected the background check. Maybe that you even talk to a couple of people. But then you steal my birth certificate? Listen in on my phone calls? That was already a whole foot across the line. And now this? Your people pretending to be rivals to see how loyal I will be? After four weeks of dating? You’re out of your mind! You’re fucking insane!”

 

Jensen was pretty sure Jared didn’t know about any of this, so these were all empty threats. But Jensen felt like this was an appropriate reaction for Jensen Campbell.

 

“Jensen, what the fuck are you—?” Jared tried to ask but Jensen cut him off.

 

“No. And you know what, I don’t care that your cock is a goddamned thing of beauty and should be worshiped by all people on earth on a fucking shrine, it’s so not worth this psycho terror. I told you, you pull one more stunt like this and we’re over. So fuck off. And lose my number!”

 

He hung up and looked at the two people sitting in front of him. “Would you mind giving me the address we’re at, so I can call myself a cab?”

 

Cortese and Milo just stared at him like he had lost his mind. It was Milo who broke the silence. “Dude, you—you can’t talk to him like that.”

 

“I just did. Now are you gonna let me out of here? I have a plane to catch.”

 

Jensen noticed with satisfaction the worried look that spread over Cortese’s face. “Now, Jensen, look, I agree that this is not the nicest way of introducing ourselves, but you have to understand that we needed to be sure. We can’t just have any—”

 

She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Milo shot her an apprehensive glare. “I hope you won’t forget to mention that this was your idea.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Milo. Yes.” She answered the phone with a businesslike voice.

 

Jensen couldn’t make out what the person on the other end of line was saying, but judging by Cortese’s reaction it was not good.

 

“Yes, we did. I thought it was time that... no, that’s not what I... no, not at all, but Jared… Yes. Yes... I understand... Oh my god. You really do ca—Right. Of course. Again, I’m really sor—Yes. Of course. Will do.”

 

She winced as she turned back to Jensen. “Like I started explaining before, we can’t take any risks. And someone insinuating himself so quickly in Jared’s life...”

 

“Insinuating myself in Jared’s life? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s the one chasing me like a bloodhound and I’m insinuating myself? Oh, that’s rich.” Jensen crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Cortese.

 

“Jared didn’t give me the details of how you two got together, but as a friend, it is my duty to watch out for him,” Cortese said coldly. “And that means that we did this without his knowledge. Jared didn’t have anything to do with this, so no need to bitch at him.”

 

Jensen raised an eyebrow incredulously.

 

“Why do you think he just called?” she asked.

 

Jensen smiled at Cortese. “You’re really worried that I’m gonna leave, aren’t you?”

 

Cortese shrugged. “For some reason Jared seems to be really fond of your ass. And since he gets unbearable when he doesn’t get enough tail...” She smiled tightly at Jensen.

 

“I see.” Jensen couldn’t fully suppress his smirk.

 

He didn’t feel that he had done Jensen Campbell real justice yet, though. Besides, depending on who Jared’s people had talked to, they would have told them about the temper tantrums and the dramatic flair.

 

“So, you know, maybe you should call him.”

 

Jensen looked at Milo. “Why?”

 

“Well, because you told him you’d leave him over something that wasn’t his fault. And because he might kill us if you don’t.”

 

“I’d rather do this face-to-face. How about you give me a lift to Jared’s place?” Jensen asked, seeing Milo pale, then square his shoulders. Oh, this would be fun.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


“What the fuck were you thinking?” Chad’s voice was only a whisper.

 

Gen glared at him, arms crossed over her chest, while Chad gesticulated wildly. If Chad was this pissed, Milo didn’t even want to know what their boss would say. He looked over to the big double doors leading to Jared’s office. Usually they were wide open, but Campbell had walked in there, demanded to talk to Jared and then slammed them shut. Jared had ordered them to stay put before the door fell closed, so they waited. They had been in there for almost five minutes. Occasionally, Milo heard Campbell or Jared raise their voices, but it had been quiet for the last minute.

 

“I swear, if Campbell leaves again, you can clean up the mess.” Chad continued his rant, walking up and down angrily. “You know how he went off the rails the last time!”

 

“I know,” Gen hissed. “Why do you think I wanted to get Campbell alone? He’s playing Jared like a fiddle; I’ve never seen him like this. If Jared starts prioritizing Campbell, it could affect the business, it could affect all of us!”

 

“Don’t you think we haven’t done every background check known to man?” Chad asked. “I know he’s got secrets, something thief-related probably, but trust me, Jensen is not working against Jared.”

 

There was a commotion at the door, and when it opened Milo could hear Campbell’s voice.

 

“...fucking trusted you.”

 

“I had a gun to your head,” Jared snapped, appearing behind Campbell and gripping the door, keeping it from opening all the way.

 

“And that makes it better? You sold my sister out to that bitch.”

 

“ _ That bitch _ ,” Jared ground out, “is like family and I trust her.”

 

“But you don’t trust me,” Campbell spit out, trying to get out of the door. “And you know how important—”

 

Jared pulled Campbell back. “That’s enough,” he shouted, before he slammed the door shut.

 

There was more shouting, the sound of glass hitting a wall, something large toppling over and then it was quiet again.

 

“Jesus fuck,” Milo breathed out. “Are they always like that?”

 

Chad nodded. “Why do you think Jared likes him so much? Jensen’s fierce.”

 

Milo could see that. Campbell hadn’t shown any fear at all, not once. The guy was tough, he had to give him that. He could understand why the boss wanted to keep him around. That wouldn’t bode well for him and Gen, though. 

 

Jared had assigned Milo as a protection detail to Gen early on—she might be good with the books, but not so much when it came to close combat—but he knew he couldn’t protect her now. Hell, both their asses were on the line and the look Jared had shot them before Campbell had slammed the door… Milo shuddered. He knew that look and he had prayed he’d never be on the receiving end of it. He’d seen too often what happened to people who managed to piss Jared off. It really wasn’t a good thing to do.

 

There were sounds coming from the other side of the door again, but they were weirdly regular. Almost rhythmic.

 

“Thank god,” Chad said. “They’re making up.”

 

Milo tried to focus on anything but his boss fucking his boyfriend in his office, but Campbell didn’t seem to be trying to stay quiet. Chad didn’t seem disturbed, probably not the first time he was subjected to this, and Gen looked more interested than anything.

 

It was over pretty quickly, and when the boss came out, his hair was a bit mussed, but his clothes were in order. There was no sign of an aftersex glow though, he was definitely still pissed. Shit.

 

“So,” Jared said. “You want to explain why you abducted Jensen?”

 

Gen squared her shoulders and didn’t flinch. “Like I told you on the phone, I needed to make sure. There are too many suspicious things in his past. That we know of. I was just looking out for you, you know that.”

 

Jared stepped into her space, towering over her. “He almost left.”

 

Gen didn’t give an inch. “It’s not my fault you told me things he wanted you to keep quiet. Don’t put your mistakes on me. I’m not sorry for what I did, and I’d do it again. I am your friend and I have your back. If you weren’t so wrapped up in that thief, you could see that.”

 

Milo sucked in a breath and looked over to Campbell who had appeared in the doorway. Contrary to Jared, he looked entirely debauched, hair mussed, bite mark on his neck and the collar of his shirt ripped open. He was watching Jared and Gen intently, but his face gave nothing away.

 

Jared and Gen were still staring at each other, when Campbell padded over to them. “Jared, that’s enough.” He nodded at Genevieve, entirely unfazed that Jared was now glaring at him.

 

“Jensen. This is none of your business, step away,” Jared said warningly.

 

Campbell shook his head. “She’s right, you know. She was looking out for you; you were the one who messed up.”

 

Milo reached for the medallion of St. Dismas hidden under his shirt. This couldn’t end well.

 

Jared stared at Campbell, nostrils flaring and fist clenching, but he didn’t say anything. The silence became unbearable and just when Milo thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Campbell turned around and walked towards the veranda.

 

“You really need to learn to own up to your mistakes,” he said over his shoulder, before he walked out.

 

Milo looked back to Jared. His boss was still angry, furious even, but he just dragged a hand through his hair and turned back to Gen.

 

“I get why you did it. But if you ever go behind my back like that again..”

 

“I know,” she cut him off. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jared nodded curtly, then he followed Jensen out to the garden. Milo stared after him, then turned to Chad. “What the fuck, man?”

 

Chad just shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve asked myself that every day since Campbell showed up here. I know something’s off with him, but him and the boss, that’s the real deal. So I’m not worried.”

 

Gen looked pensively out the window. “Yeah, I’m starting to think so too. When I had him alone, before he figured out it was me, he didn’t even consider it ratting Jared out. And he’s certainly not your usual boytoy.”

 

“What do you mean?” Milo asked confused. The freshly fucked look Jensen had just sported definitely screamed boytoy to him.

 

“He actually stood up to Jared,” Gen said with a small smile. “Like in a real relationship.”

 

Chad nodded sagely. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. It’s getting interesting around here.”

 

Milo looked outside, seeing Jared undress and jump in the pool next to Campbell. Oh yeah, interesting.

  


 

 

  
  
  


“We’re gonna go out tonight.”

 

Jensen nodded without looking up from his book.

 

“Gen is going to come with us,” Jared continued.

 

Jensen looked up sharply. What was Jared telling him here?

 

“I think it’s a good idea for the two of you to meet again under more relaxed circumstances,” Jared said calmly. “I wanted to take you out anyway and it’s been a while since Gen and I went partying together.”

 

“Not to put a damper on your plans, but I don’t think she likes me very much.”

 

“She doesn’t know you yet,” was all Jared said before he left the room.

 

Huh. Well, if Jared wanted them to get along, that was a good thing.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


Watching Jensen dance never really got old. He was beautiful when he was staying still, but when he was moving, seamless grace and fluidity, Jared just couldn’t look away. And when Jensen started moving his hips to the rhythm of the music, well, Jared was really glad he had access to the private bathrooms. He’d definitely have to fuck Jensen soon. Knowing his little thief, it wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Jensen had been shooting him loaded looks over his shoulder since he’d been dragged off to the dance floor by Gen. 

 

Gen. Jared was still pissed at her, even though he understood her motivation. She was looking out for him in her own way, but dammit, Jared could take care of himself. He could read people really well, it was what had gotten him where he was today. So Jensen was close-mouthed about his past but there was no way he was working for the feds and none of his rivals would come up with such an elaborate plan for a mole. And if someone approached Jensen about information for money, Jared didn’t think Jensen would rat him out. He had such an aversion against taking Jared’s money, insisted on making his own, Jared suspected it was only half about Jensen’s pride and at least half about how much he actually loved what he did. Jensen was a self-sustaining art thief; he’d never turn into a snitch.

 

Chad had dug deep into Jensen’s life and everything his former acquaintances had told Chad painted the picture of a hedonistic adrenaline junkie. Jared guessed that’s what you had to be if you had to dangle from skyscrapers and break into highly secured buildings. So Gen needed to back off. Nothing would make that happen faster than her seeing for herself that Jensen could be trusted.

 

Jensen had been more than surprised when Gen brought him two shots and asked him to dance, and Jared got it; nobody who met Gen in her prim power suit and neat bun thought there was a shot-drinking party girl hiding under there.

 

After his initial surprise, Jensen had gone along with it, matching her shot for shot, and even though Gen was tiny, she could hold her liquor like an Irish boxer. Jensen was no lightweight himself, but he was quite adorable when he was tipsy.

 

Jared snorted at himself.  _ Adorable _ . Really, Jensen was messing with his head.

 

“Everything alright?” Chad asked.

 

“What? Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

 

“Uh huh.” Clearly Chad didn’t believe him. He dropped it anyway, because Chad was a good friend.

 

“I talked to Mitch today. Told him to cool his heels.”

 

Jared nodded. Mitch was leading the Chicago outlet of the Hells Angels and he’d gotten in a few scuffles with another gang. The resulting mess did keep the police busy, but it also made Chicago’s streets a dangerous place.

 

“What did he say?” Jared asked.

 

Chad pursed his mouth. “He told me they were infringing on his business, taking his customers away.”

 

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Since when can’t Mitch deal with competition?”

 

“See, I asked him the same thing. He said they are well funded and well equipped. More MAC-10s than a hedgehog has quills. I told Abel to get his feelers out, see what’s what.”

 

This was why Chad was his lieutenant: he knew what needed to be done without Jared telling him. Plus, Chad’s lack of decorum lead many people to underestimate him and Jared liked it that way.

 

“Thing is,” Chad continued slowly, watching a bunch of girls on the dance floor intently, “there have been rumors.”

 

The statement hung in the air, unspoken but Jared knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

“I know,” Jared said curtly. He’d heard the rumors as well. “Misha still has a lot of connections in California, maybe I should send him down there, see if we can do something about that.”

 

Chad nodded pensively. “Might be good. ‘Cause if they come here… that could be a real problem.”

 

Just then, Misha materialized out of the mass of dancers and came up into the lounge. He sat next down to Jared, and Jared once again wondered if Misha wasn’t psychic after all.

 

“Good timing, Misha,” Chad said with a grin. “And since you’re here now to keep Jay company while he’s drooling over Jensen, I’m gonna go get me some tail.”

 

Chad emptied his drink and ambled out on the dance floor, a group of bar flies immediately flocking to him.

 

“Since when do you need company when you’re watching your boyfriend shake his ass?” Misha asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Shut up,” Jared said good-naturedly. “I need you to fly to California. Figure out who’s moving and expanding down there. We have a new player in town, Enrique, who’s giving Mitch quite a bit of trouble.”

 

“You want me to hit up my old street connections?”

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jared asked, not taking his eyes off Jensen, who was dancing with two girls now. Out of the periphery of his vision he caught Misha shaking his head.

 

“Not at all. There’s actually this one chemistry professor I’ve been meaning to visit…”

 

Jared snorted, but didn’t comment further. Misha and his love for explosives of all kinds was just a part of him, just like Mike’s need for violence and Chad’s inability to stay with a girl for longer than one night. They all had their flaws.

 

Inadvertently, his thoughts drifted to Jensen. The thief was restless, driven by ghosts of his past he refused to share. Jared pretended not to care, but Jensen’s reluctance to tell him about his life was wearing on him. It was infuriating, how much he wanted—no,  _ needed _ to figure out what made Jensen tick, what had turned him into a complete hedonist, fearless and always looking for the next kick.

 

He didn’t like to admit it, but getting Jensen to stay and open up, to satisfy him and get him to show some trust, Jared had become obsessed with it.

 

“He’s quite special, isn’t he?” Misha asked, almost too quietly to be heard over the loud music of the club.

 

Jared shot him a glare to shut him up—he really didn’t need one of Misha’s insightful lectures, but no such luck.

 

“It’s exhilarating when you meet the one, understandably. And terrifying at the same time. Never quite knowing what to say, how to figure things out.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous Misha, Jensen isn’t ‘the one’.”

 

Misha just looked at him without blinking.

 

“I’m serious!” Jared said and even he could hear how defensive it sounded. Fuck. “Okay. So maybe I like him. He’s different, you know?”

 

Misha still didn’t blink.

 

“So maybe I’m falling for him. It happens.”

 

Misha tilted his head. “Falling for him? That’s what you’re calling it, huh?”

 

Jared raised his eyebrows.

 

Misha clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed. “Then you must have reached the bottom of the Mariana Trench by now, because you started falling for that guy the first time you saw him.”

 

Jared scoffed and reached for his drink. When he looked up, Misha was smiling serenely and Jensen had walked up to them, plopping down in the seat Chad had vacated. Jared instinctively moved towards Jensen when he leaned in to kiss Jared’s neck.

 

“Hey there, handsome,” Jensen murmured against his jaw. “I missed you.”

 

“Looked like you were having fun out there.”

 

Jensen chuckled, hot breath fanning over Jared’s skin. “Hmm, yeah. Still missed you.”

 

Jared turned into Jensen, gave him a hard kiss and then stood up, pulling Jensen with him. His thief just gave him a knowing grin and followed him back to the private bathrooms with eager steps. Jared heard Misha laugh behind him and Chad’s unmistakable catcall from the dance floor, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to fuck Jensen now.

 

 

  


 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

“C’mon Jensen,” Chad whined. “Jared’s gonna be busy with his stupid business meeting all night; I wanna go dancing.”

 

Jensen hid his smile behind his book. “Can’t you go without me?”

 

“I could, but you are an excellent wingman. Chicks love a gay best friend!”

 

Jensen glared at Chad. “You’re not helping your cause.”

 

Chad tried to give him his version of the puppy dog eyes, but really he just looked like a deranged poodle. “C’mon. You can’t sit here and mope cause Jay’s not around.”

 

“I’m not moping.”

 

Chad raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

 

“Fine,” Jensen said and slammed his book on the table. “I’m coming.”

 

Chad smiled brightly and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s my man!”

  
  


Chad insisted on driving his new Ferrari and since this wasn’t the first time they’d gone out together—Jensen had worked hard to make Jared’s men like him—he knew that a girl would be riding back home with Chad, not Jensen.

 

As soon as Chad parked in front of the club he wanted to party at, Jensen texted Willy the address and told him he’d need him there later.

 

Inside the club it was dark and loud and Chad let him straight to the VIP lounges. They were all occupied, but after a quick scan Chad walked up to one of the lounges, smiled at the people, drew his jacket back to show his gun and said “Scoot.”

 

They left without protest.

 

“As subtle as an anvil,” Jesen remarked dryly while Chad waved a folded hundred dollar bill in the direction of the nearest waitress.

 

Chad just shrugged his shoulders. “Life’s not worth living if you can’t flash your piece every now and then. Now why don’t you be a buddy and see if you can get some girls in here.”

 

Jensen put on a show of being annoyed but he leaned over the railing to another table filled with older business men and young women and smiled at them.

 

“Ladies. Looking fabulous. Love the shoes. Your company, not so fabulous though.”

 

Two girls looked at him and smiled. “It’s nice enough. Or do you think you can do better?”

 

Jensen smiled wider. “Trust me, you’re gonna have so much more fun at our table. And wow, you gotta tell me where you get your hair done, your highlights look amazing.”

  
  


Chad was happily drowning in the attention of four girls, while Jensen had managed to pull the two ones out of the group who weren’t looking for a sugar daddy and was immersed in a discussion about the newest exhibition at the Art Institute when he caught sight of a familiar face across the room.

 

The guy was standing at the bar, not easy to make out in the strobe lights of the club and Jensen thought his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because that was impossible. He should be in jail.

 

The next time a spotlight illuminated his face, there was no doubt left. Standing at the bar, sipping a drink and leering at the waitress was Piotr, the right hand man of the human trafficker Jensen had taken down in Miami. And instead of rotting in jail where he belonged, he was partying in downtown Chicago.

 

Jensen watched Piotr go back to another group of men at a VIP table, mobsters if Jensen had ever seen one. He recognized a few Russian prison tats and then caught them looking over to Chad nervously. But Chad had waved in their direction earlier, so they couldn’t be the enemy. Jensen filed this knowledge away for later and ducked when Piotr turned his head in their direction.

 

If Piotr saw his face, Jensen was done. He excused himself to the women, tipped Chad’s knee, signaled he was going to leave and Chad waved him off, eyes already back on the girl’s cleavage.

 

Outside, Jensen called Willy. And tomorrow, he would find out why the hell Piotr was still walking the streets and what to do about that. The guy wasn’t only a human trafficker, he was a grade A monster, raping every girl that came through and wasn’t marked virgin. He’d liked to control the girls with a knife and not all of them had come out unscathed. Jensen had secretly hoped Piotr would give him a reason to shoot him but it hadn’t happened.

 

 

 

 

 

  


The next morning Jensen drove into the city with Jared, had breakfast with him at a small diner that served excellent french toast and when Jared went to work at his legitimate firm, Jensen went out under the pretense of buying something new to read. Instead he stole a burner phone; with an open call like that he wasn’t going to take any risks.

 

His old handler answered on the second ring. “Weatherly.”

 

“I just got an interesting call.”

 

“Ackles?” Weatherly asked confused.

 

“Piotr is walking around Chicago as happy as can be, when he’s supposed to be in jail. How the fuck did that happen?” Jensen had trouble keeping his voice down.

 

Weatherly sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like it, but he made a deal.”

 

“A deal? A _deal_?” Jensen couldn’t believe it. “What kind of fucking deal could you make with that asshole?”

 

“He gave us the boss of their transport organization. He also runs weapons for the South twenty-second gang. With what Piotr gave us, we can build a case against them.”

 

Shit. “Will he testify for you?”

 

Weatherly was quiet for a moment. “No. But we have enough to start investigating from new angles.

 

“You know what Piotr did. That guy is a monster.”

 

“They all are, Ackles.”

 

“He raped those girls! Every girl that came through there and wasn’t a virgin, he played with them every night. He tortured them just for fun and he’s never gonna stop!”

 

“You have to look at the bigger picture,” Weatherly said with a hard voice, no trace of guilt or regret in it.

 

“Fuck you,” Jensen bit out. “The only bigger picture you look at is your career. You could've gone after the Southies another way. But Piotr? He’s off the hook now and if you want bigger picture, how about the countless girls he’s going to rape while he’s free, huh? What about them?”

 

“Some other jurisdiction can get him on the line for that.”

 

Jensen stared at his phone in disgust. “You’re fucking vile, Weatherly. You don’t give a fuck about any girls he’ll hurt. You only give a fuck about yourself and your career.”

 

“Ackles, you have to—”

 

“See the bigger picture?” Jensen asked harshly. “You know what I see? I see people! I see those girls, beaten and scared, that’s what I see. We are supposed to protect people. But it seems you fucking forgot that.”

 

“Well, if so, then the whole department has,” Weatherly countered. “I didn’t make this decision alone, a lot of people signed off on this. So yeah, it sucks for those girls, but this was the best play.”

 

“Yeah, for you, fucker,” Jensen said and hung up.

 

He couldn’t believe it. Yeah, deals were made with criminals all the time for info, something he’d always hated, but letting a known rapist walked free—Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. Just thinking what would happen if Cat ever came to Chicago and ran across Piotr. And all the other girls he’d find and probably had already found… Jensen would have to do something about him then. It had been his case, he couldn’t let anyone else screw it up.

  
  


“Misha, can I ask you something?”

 

Misha looked up from his phone. He was weirdly obsessed with playing 2048 in his free time. “Sure. Anything for our resident sunshine.”

 

Jensen snorted. “Chad and I were out partying last night in the Globe and there were a few guys hanging out there, Russians? The leader is a tall guy with a scar across his face.”

 

“Vladimir and his gang?” Misha asked. “Why do you ask?”

 

“What do they do and do they work for Jared?” Jensen asked, ignoring the question.

 

Misha eyed him carefully, blue eyes unblinking. “Vladimir is in the transportation business. Reasonably priced luxury goods, if you want. And yes, of course he works for Jared. Again: why?”

 

This was a pretty big gamble, but there was only one thing that Piotr did with his connections back home and his group had eyed Chad nervously last night. Jensen thought of the girls he had saved in Miami, how many more would have to suffer their fate, and well, the risk was worth it.

 

“Are they allowed to expand business? Because I heard them talking about setting up new storage to house a new shipment, but it sounded more like people than Cuban cigars. And I thought Jared wasn’t involved in that kind of stuff.”

 

“That’s because he isn’t,” Misha said and stood up. “I’m gonna make a call.”

 

“Misha,” Jensen said. “One of the guys, I saw him harassing a waitress. It was pretty bad.”

 

Misha tilted his head. “What are you saying, Jensen?”

 

“I’m saying that he has a dagger tattooed on his forearm and that the girl was really scared. You were the one who told me that kind of behavior doesn’t fly here.”

 

Misha nodded. “Indeed it doesn’t.”

 

Jensen watched him walk away. Now he could only hope this would work or he’d have to think of something else.

  
  


Jensen couldn’t sleep that night. Jared had called him to let him know he had to take care of some business, so he’d be late. Jensen lay awake, wondering what Jared was going to do. Would he give them a simple reprimand? A slap on the wrist? Or would he kill them?

 

It scared him, how much he wanted that, Piotr dead and his head on a stick. It was murder, in cold blood, but if Piotr would’ve gone to trial he would have gotten the death penalty. So really, was this such a big difference? He tried not to examine this further because he knew where thoughts like those led, and yet, when Jared came home shortly before dawn and told him that Jensen’s observant eyes had saved him a lot of trouble, Jensen asked.

 

“What did you do with them?”

 

“Well,” Jared said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and starting to undress. “Vladimir used to be a valued employee, but this new guy put all kinds of ideas in his head. I made an example of him, it should keep Vladimir in line in the future.”

 

“What did you do to them?” Jensen couldn’t stop himself from asking; he needed to know.

 

“A punishment fitting the crime,” Jared said coldly. “It takes quite some time for a man to bleed out like that, gives him time to think about why he’s dying. And of course the pain is excruciating.”

 

Jensen stared into the darkness of the bedroom and tried to push down the dark satisfaction spreading through him. He consoled himself with the fact that Piotr had deserved everything Jared had given him.

  


 

 

 

  
  


The first time Jensen left for a longer job, Jared wasn’t thrilled but he didn’t throw any stones in Jensen’s way. Willy drove him to the airport, again in silence.

 

“You do know I’m coming back this time, don't you?”

 

Willy nodded. “I’ll pick you up again.”

 

“Then why the silence?”

 

Willy shot him a short look through the rear-view mirror. “You talk enough for two people.”

 

Jensen laughed. “I like you, Willy.”

  
  


He relieved some thieves of their illegally-acquired diamonds in Los Angeles. Alona had suggested them as his next target. They had finally figured out a safe way of communication: an email account where they just saved the messages they wrote, deleting them as soon as they read them. He was pretty sure the thieves Alona wanted him to hit were under an investigation that wasn’t going anywhere and he didn’t know if that would help or just piss them off, but he wasn’t going to argue with Alona about his targets. Besides, if he could get the official investigation rolling like this, that was a nice bonus.

 

The heist was easy, even if it took four days of scouting and prep and he sold the diamonds to a fence that Samantha had recommended. Jensen was back on a plane two hours after the sale.

 

Willy picked him up from the airport as promised and Jensen threw him a fridge magnet with the LA skyline.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “I have a soft spot for cheesy souvenirs, and when I thought about who I might get one for, you came to mind.”

 

Willy snorted but Jensen saw the corners of his mouth twitch. Good. Mending fences was important.

  
  


When Jensen entered the mansion, he followed muted voices out on the deck. Jared was sitting there with Chad, Misha and—shit. Now he knew why Danneel Harris’ face had looked so familiar when he’d seen her file for the first time. Her hair was different now, darker and straight, and she was wearing a light summer dress instead of the dark outfit and leather pants he’d seen her in the last time.

 

“Alec?” she asked when she saw. “Shit, what are you doing here?”

 

Jensen forced his mouth into a grin. “Rachel. Wow, it’s been years.”

 

Dannel got up and walked over to him. “Do I still get a hug?” she asked flirtily.

 

Jensen reached out, grabbed her around the waist and whirled her around once. He needed to buy some time to get his story straight. “Only the best for my favorite air vent mate.”

 

Danneel laughed and looked over to Jared. “Jay, I didn’t know you knew Alec!”

 

Jared stood up, face curious but the corner of his mouth twitching in the first signs of anger. “I didn’t know either. See, when I met him, he told me his name was Jensen.”

 

Danneel looked back at Jensen with a smirk. “Of course you are the mysterious new boyfriend. You know, I thought back then that you were the biggest loss for women in the world ever, but now you look even better! I could just eat you up.”

 

“Well, honey, what I told you back then still holds. If there ever was a woman to turn me, it would be you.”

 

With a laugh, Danneel stretched out her hand. “Then let’s do this right. The name’s Danneel, but you, honey, can call me Dani.”

 

“Jensen Campbell,” Jensen said kissing her hand. “If you must, call me Jen. I will make an exception for you, because your hair is just fabulous.”

 

He winked and Dani laughed throatily, when behind them Jared cleared his throat. “Would someone mind telling me how you two know each other?”

 

“Oh my god, Jared, it’s the best story ever. Jensen, please let me tell it.”

 

Jensen laughed and held his hands up. “Alright, alright, you can tell it.”

 

They sat down and then Dani launched into the tale of how, about four years ago, she’d been in Miami, working a job, when she’d landed herself in a bit of a bind when the cops had shown up to take down the guy she’d been just about to shoot. She’d looked around for a way out, when an air conditioning shield had moved and a hand had extended out of the wall. She’d climbed in and spent the next six hours with Alec—or Jensen—waiting for the cops to clear out so they could leave in safety.

 

“Wait, the guy who screwed my father over?” Jared interrupted.

 

Dani nodded.

 

Chad looked at Jensen skeptically. “What were you doing there?”

 

“I freelanced back then,” Jensen explained, sounding more calm than he felt. “After Boston I needed to lay low and you know, Miami is a good place to leave the country when you don’t have clean papers. Someone else was interested in his business and I was supposed to check him out, see where he was stashing his guns, which routes they were taking, etc. After they all went to jail though, that was a moot point.”

 

Jensen left out that they’d gone to jail on the intel Jensen had provided.

 

“That’s a long way from stealing art,” Chad said casually, watching Jensen like a hawk.

 

Jensen just shrugged his shoulders. “Was too hot to do anything else. I didn’t like it much, but in my business you have to adapt occasionally.”

 

“Isn’t it a small world,” Dani mused. “We should celebrate!”

 

Dani practically danced over to the cocktail bar and Jensen suppressed the urge to slump in relief. That could’ve gone so much worse.

 

Later, when everyone was pleasantly buzzed and sprawled out on the outdoor furniture, Dani plopped down in his lap.

 

“You know, I instantly liked you back then. And from what the guys told me about you and Jared, I like you even more.”

 

“I always liked you too, Dani.”

 

She nodded, then her expression turned serious. “Have you told Jared about Heyerdahl?”

 

Jensen froze. “How do you know about him?”

 

“Heyerdahl is a dangerous man. In my line of work, you keep track of them,” she said quietly.

 

Jensen let his head fall back. “I haven’t told him. Heyerdahl is my problem. I’m gonna deal with him. I almost have the money together, Jared doesn’t need to know about this.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You know him, he’s got trust issues. I don’t want him to think that’s the reason I came here.”

 

“I get that, Jensen,” Dani said slowly. “But Heyerdahl is trouble. You should tell Jared.”

 

Jensen was quiet.

 

“If he finds out another way…”

 

“He’s not gonna find out. Please, Dani. We just… it took him long enough to trust me. I’ll settle my debt with Heyerdahl and I’ll tell Jared about it when it’s done.”

 

“Alright,” Dani said. “I’ll keep an eye out for you. But if it gets iffy, I’m gonna tell him, whether you want me to or not.”

 

Jensen's heart was beating a mile a minute when he kissed her cheek in thanks. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  
  


Dani hung around for a while and they went out for coffee and dancing in the evenings and Campbell and she got along like a house on fire. It was scary really, how easy it was for Jensen to make friends with criminals.

 

When she left a few weeks later he casually asked where she was going, not expecting an answer but she surprised him by saying, “Colombia. There are a few people down there making problems. I’m gonna have a chat with the Capo.”

 

“Come back in one piece,” Jensen said and meant it.

 

Dani placed a kiss on his cheek and picked up her duffel. “Don’t worry, honey, I always do.”

 

When Jensen had a free minute he’d have to call Alona. The Colombian connection, that was news to him.

 

 

 

 

 

  


“I’m going crazy,” Jensen announced over dinner a few weeks later.

 

Jared looked at him, startled. “What?”

 

Jensen threw up his hands. “I’m bored, Jared. I don’t work enough to keep myself occupied and no offence to your pool, but I’m not a lazing around the whole day kind of guy and sunning season is coming to an end anyway. I need adventure and adrenaline.”

 

“Okay,” Jared said calmly. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”

 

“Really? Just like that?”

 

Jared nodded. “I want you to be happy here,” he said quietly.

 

Jensen smiled and realised too late that it was an instinctual reaction, not something he’d forced himself to do. It had been happening more and more lately, but Jensen decided not to worry. He was just deep enough into the role not to think anymore.

 

“How about some dirt biking?”

 

Jared reached for his cellphone. “Not really my style, but Chad’s gonna love it.”

 

“What if I wanna do something with you?”

 

Jared gave him a feral grin. “You had anything specific in mind?”

 

Jensen stood up, walked over to Jared and straddled his lap. “You get three guesses.”

 

“I only need one,” Jared said roughly, and then fucked him over the table. Their steaks went cold, but they didn’t care.

  
  


“I’m serious, Jared,” Jensen said when they were lounging around the couch later. “You need to do something. All work, all the time, that’s not healthy. Besides, I don’t get to see you nearly enough.”

 

Jared snorted. “Sweetheart, someone needs to have an eye on this city.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t take a few days off. Let’s go somewhere fun. How about DC? Let me show you the museums.”

 

“I can’t just leave, Jensen, not now.”

 

“Now?” Jensen perked up. If something bigger than usual was going on… he just needed to spin this like it was about something else.

 

Jared waved him off. “Nothing to worry about.”

 

“If it’s nothing to worry about, you can take a trip with me,” Jensen said stubbornly.

 

“Some other time, okay?”

 

When Jared leaned in to kiss him, Jensen turned away. “You’ve done nothing but work ever since I came here. I’m beginning to think this is your default setting,” Jensen grumbled.

 

“Keeping this city in line is a full time job.”

 

Jensen put on Campbell’s best pout. “Just a weekend. Or a few days if you'd rather leave during the week.”

 

“I have meetings, Jensen.”

 

“Send Chad. He can take care of business for a few days.”

 

Jared shook his head. “No. I have to take care of these things myself.”

 

Jensen got up, huffing exasperatedly. “Sheesh, how did you become such a control freak at twenty-seven?”

 

Jared’s eyes hardened. “You grow up the way I do, either you’re in control—or you die.”

 

It was a risky decision, but Jensen decided to push. He needed to see if Jared would give him something.

 

“I get that, but Jared, it’s a weekend! There won’t be a spontaneous rebellion when you’re out of the city. The day-to-day stuff runs without you here. I mean, what the fuck is so important you can’t spend three days with me?”

 

Jared dragged a hand through his hair.

 

“You know what, never mind,” Jensen said sullenly. “It’s all stupid mob shit anyway.”

 

“It’s not stupid mob shit,” Jared bit out, clearly trying to keep his anger under control. “I can handle the _stupid mob shit_ just fine. This is bigger and I can’t leave now.”

 

“Can you at least tell me how long this mess is gonna take?”

 

“No, I can’t,” Jared snapped. “I’m not a fucking fortune teller.”

 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Jensen hissed. “It’s not my fault you have problems.”

 

Jared drew a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry sweetheart. C’mere.”

 

“No, thanks. You can’t just yell at me because of one of your messes and —hmpf!”

 

Jensen didn’t get further when Jared walked over, gripped his face with his hands and kissed him hard.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing Jensen again and again. “Sorry about all this.” He pushed his tongue into Jensen's mouth and his hands started working on Jensen's fly. “Fucking cartel getting on my nerves.”

 

So, trouble with a cartel. Maybe he meant the one in Colombia, where Dani was already trying to sort things out.

 

“Cartels are stupid,” Jensen mumbled into Jared’s mouth, going down willingly when his large hands pushed him onto the couch.

 

“Yeah.” Jared breathed into his open shirt collar. “Getting on my last nerve. Think they can dictate prices and conditions like they own the city.”

 

“The nerve,” Jensen said and pulled on Jared’s shirt. “You should shoot them.”

 

Jared pulled Jensen’s clothes off without care and fumbled a small bottle of lube and a condom out of his jacket before quickly shedding his clothes. He was beautiful, strong and graceful, muscles coiling under smooth skin and Jensen couldn’t stop himself from touching even if he wanted to.

 

“It’s not that easy, sweetheart. I kill them, more are gonna come. I need to find another way to get them out.”

 

Jensen took the lube and started prepping himself quickly while Jared fumbled with the condom. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Now stop thinking about your fucking job and fuck me.”

 

Jared obliged and Jensen had a split second to think that he should call Alona, then Jared made thinking of anything else but him impossible.

 

 

 

 

 

  


Jensen was crawling out of his skin. It had been over four months now and he’d never been in so deep. He needed something to pull him back out. He knew it was a risk, but he got himself a burner phone from a street vendor and dialed his parents’ number.

 

“Ackles residence, Susan speaking.”

 

Hearing his mom’s voice was like coming home. “Hey, mom.”

 

They didn’t talk long. Jensen couldn’t tell her anything and he could tell she was too emotional to think of all the things she usually made little notes of so she could catch him up when he came home. Her question as to when that would be, he ignored. He didn’t have good news for her.

 

“Tell Cat to behave,” he told her at the end.

 

“Will you be home for Christmas?” his mom just asked. Christmas. He’d forgotten about that.

 

“Sorry, Mom.”

 

“Jensen, even criminals celebrate Christmas, surely you could get a few days off.”

 

Jensen sighed. “I can’t. It’s too dangerous—for me and for you.”

 

“Alright. You be safe, you hear me?”

 

“I will. Bye, mom.”

 

“Jensen, wait!”

 

“What is it?”

 

“You have to come back, Jensen,” she pleaded. “You’re going to be an uncle next year.”

 

“Tamara is pregnant?” Johnny had been married for two years now. But being an uncle… he wouldn’t even be able to be there when the baby was born. A heavy weight settled in his gut. Jensen had never regretted the life he chose, but it didn’t make it easier to leave his family behind.

 

“Tell them I’m so happy. And if he names the kid Han Solo I might have to shoot him.” Johnny used to be a giant Star Wars nerd, always joking he’d name his kids after his movie heroes.

 

His mom laughed, although it sounded more like a sob.

 

“I will, honey. I love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

Jensen hung up and pondered what reason he could give Jared for wanting to get stupidly drunk. The phonecall hadn’t had the desired effect at all; if anything he felt worse than before.

 

 

 

 

  


“Jensen. It is so, _so_ good to see you.”

 

Jensen froze and put the book back on the shelf. Finding something new to read suddenly wasn’t all that important anymore.

 

He slowly turned around and came face-to-face with Christopher Heyerdahl. He was accompanied by two goons, almost too broad for the narrow aisle in the bookstore, and was smiling at Jensen with a friendly expression. Jensen knew the one, the one that said ‘I’m gonna kill you if you don’t jump as high as I say’.

 

“Christopher,” Jensen said, “You’re out.”

 

Heyerdahl nodded. “We should have a chat. About old times.”

 

“Sounds good. How about tomorrow for lunch?”

 

“How about now?” Heyerdahl countered and Jensen knew he couldn’t say no.

 

So he smiled brightly. “Fine. But you’re buying.”

 

Heyerdahl laughed and lead the way out.

  
  


They had coffee in a little cafe down the street. Heyerdahl made inane small talk, until he suddenly broke off.

 

“So, Jensen, you’re a smart cookie, you know why I’m here.”

 

Jensen inclined his head. “You want your money.”

 

“I assume you were a good boy and held onto it for me.”

 

“Of course. All of it.”

 

Heyerdahl smiled. “All four hundred grand.”

 

Jensen sat up straight. “Last time I checked your cut was two hundred.”

 

“Yes, _my_ cut. But then there’s Matt’s cut and Alexandra’s cut.”

 

Jensen took a sip of his coffee, trying to work a way out of this. He knew where Heyerdahl was going with this and it wasn’t good.

 

“Matt’s doing a dime in Otisville and Alexandra's dead.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Heyerdahl said offhandedly. “And a deceased crew member’s money goes to the boss. And Matt, well, I will be holding onto his money and he can come get it from me when he gets out.”

 

Heyerdahl wanted Matt back under his thumb as soon as he got out. It made sense; Matt was one of the best forgers in the states.

 

“I can hold onto that money just as well,” was all Jensen said.

 

Heyerdahl raised an eyebrow. “You sure your new boyfriend wants an ex of yours to come calling?”

 

Jensen snorted. “Please. As if Jared would be threatened by Matt.”

 

“Right, right.” Jensen did not like Heyerdahl’s speculative look at all. “Your new boyfriend has quite the reputation. I have to say, I was a bit surprised to see you hooking up with the mob.”

 

Jensen grinned. “What can I say, he’s got charm.”

 

“And money. So why are you stalling on this?”

 

“Because it’s not your money. Alexandra’s cut should go to her family.”

 

Heyerdahl scoffed.

 

“If it stays with the crew,” Jensen continued, “It gets split equally. And since Matt is much more likely to come to me first…”

 

“Let’s cut the crap, Jenny,” Heyerdahl hissed, leaning forward. Under the table, Jensen felt something small and round press against his knee. Once you had a gun nozzle pressed against your body, you didn’t forget the feeling.

 

“Now,” Heyerdahl said with that creepy smile of his. “You’re gonna get me the whole four hundred grand or I’m gonna take some parts of you. No one screws me over, Jenny, and the way you escaped back in Boston… it smelled like a set-up, you know?”

 

“Please. Just because your spidey senses don’t work and you weren’t prepared to get off a building the quickest way…”

 

“It was a three storey jump!”

 

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “There was a city truck sitting below, collecting all the fallen leaves. Not my fault you didn’t wanna get dirty.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Heyerdahl said, sounding impatient for the first time. “You will give me my money. Or you start losing extremities.”

 

Jensen leaned back and glared at Heyerdahl.

 

“Or you can go running to your boyfriend. But make no mistakes, I have friends in high places. Padalecki won’t kill me and risk shipment problems. So I don’t care if you get the money yourself or if your boyfriend bails you out, but one way or another, I’ll get it. Got it?”

 

Jensen nodded curtly and Heyerdahl smiled, showing all his teeth. “Excellent. I’ll call you.”

  
  


Jensen picked up a burner phone in the next mall. Alona picked up on the third ring.

 

“Sister of mine. How are you?”

 

“Good, how are you?”

 

“Well,” Jensen said. “An old friend of mine just showed up in town. And guess what, he knows my boyfriend. World is a small place, isn’t it?”

 

Alona sucked in a breath. “Yeah, it really is. Listen I gotta run, but I’ll catch you later. I have some research to do—for a paper.”

 

Jensen heard the pause and knew Alona was on Heyerdahl’s connections. “Alright, talk to you later.”

  
  


“What’s up with you?” Rosey asked later that night, when he, Chad and Jensen sat out on the veranda, playing poker.

 

“Nothing. Why?”

 

Rosey pushed some more chips in the middle of the table. “You’re brooding. You’re not pissed that the boss abandoned you for a meeting, are you?”

 

Jensen matched Rosey’s bet. “Jared can do whatever he wants.”

 

“I fold,” Chad said, squinting at Jensen. “No, you’re pissed. You got on your prime bitch face.”

 

Jensen threw his cards on the table. “Fuck you.” He left without another word.

 

He felt bad about it, Rosey meant well and Chad probably too, but Jensen needed to figure out what to do about this mess. Unless he could line up another job that would get him two hundred grand he was fucked, and not in the good way.

 

He took out Campbell’s phone and started calling contacts.

 

Two hours later, his bag was packed and he made his way downstairs. Rosey and Chad were still playing and now Misha had joined them.

 

“I’m gonna head out, caught a job,” Jensen said. “I’ll be back at the end of the week.”

 

The guys exchanged a look.

 

“Did you call Jared?” Chad asked.

 

“Left him a voicemail.”

 

Chad grimaced and Rosey flinched. “Dude.”

 

“It’s not like I need his okay to go somewhere,” Jensen bit out. “You guys have a nice week.”

 

“Well, if the bug gets you, you gotta run,” he heard Misha say behind him, then he was out of the door.

 

Willy was there, waiting for him with the car. “Next time you wanna go somewhere, call me. I don’t wanna have to get my info secondhand.”

 

“I called a cab,” Jensen said, slightly surprised.

 

“Yeah, no. The boss’ boyfriend does not take a cab.”

 

Jensen rolled his eyes but got in the car. “Thanks, Willy,” he said after a while, but the driver just waved him off.

  
  


Jared called him when he got off the plane in Seattle.

 

“So, a job. Which prompts you to get on the last plane out of Chicago for the night, because you couldn’t wait for morning.”

 

“The plan is time sensitive,” was all Jensen offered.

 

“Sweetheart, you aren’t pissed about tonight, are you? Because I told you—”

 

Jensen cut him off. “No, Jared, I’m not. A good job offer came up, that’s all.”

 

“Why so sudden?”

 

“I was getting itchy. Last job’s been a while. And no offense to life at the mansion, but I didn’t get into my job for the money, I do it because I like it.”

 

Jared sighed. “I know, I know. Alright, Seattle. When are you gonna be back?”

 

“The weekend,” Jensen said. “Listen I gotta go, meet some people.”

 

“Anyone you know?”

 

“Nah. But making new friends is fun.”

 

“Be careful, sweetheart.”

 

“Aww, you’re worried?” Jensen cooed. “That’s so sweet.”

 

Jared snorted. “Shut up.” Then he hung up.

 

Jensen turned his phone on silent and went to his meet. It was the first time working with a crew in a long time and Jensen wasn’t thrilled they were robbing an auction house, but it would pay good money. And well, even if he didn’t like to admit it, working with a good crew, the thrill of the heist—he was actually looking forward to it.

 

 

 

 

 

  


Heyerdahl called him as soon as Jensen was back in Chicago.

 

“Tomorrow night, Bedfork Park. I’ll text you the address. Come alone and bring the cash.”

 

“Done,” Jensen said.

 

He still pondered how to get to his meet tomorrow, when Willy dropped him off in front of the row of garages and Jared was there, waiting for him, leaning against a motorcycle.

 

It was a Ducati 1199 and Jensen was instantly salivating.

 

“You got yourself a new bike. Nice,” he said.

 

“Well,” Jared drawled. “It’s actually a welcome back present. I didn’t have time to put a bow on it, but—”

 

Jensen cut him off with his mouth. He kissed Jared hard, threaded his hands into his hair and kissed him with everything he had.

 

“I love it,” Jensen mumbled.

 

“Yeah, I can feel that,” Jared grinned against his mouth.

 

“You’re gonna feel much more if we can go somewhere a bit more private.”

 

Then Jensen climbed Jared like a tree, wrapping his legs around his waist. Jared chuckled and started moving, walking to one of the open garage doors. He dropped Jensen on the hood of his old Charger and started pulling his pants down.

 

“I really missed you, baby.”

 

Jensen grinned and leaned back on the hood of the car. “I missed you too.”

  
  


Afterwards, he dug around the garage for two helmets. “C’mon, I’m taking you for a drive.”

 

Jared eyed him skeptically, but took the helmet and got on the bike behind Jensen.

 

Jensen kicked the starter, closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the rev of the engine and then hit the gas. The bike shot forwards, Jared’s arms tightened around his waist and Jensen laughed. He had a bike back home in his parents’ garage, but he didn’t get to ride all that often.

 

The thought of his parents—his whole family—stung. He tried not to let his thoughts wander in that direction on a job, but it didn’t always work. Now, he guided the bike up north and enjoyed the wind on his face. It was cold; the temperatures had dropped the last weeks and it wasn’t really bike season anymore, but Jensen didn’t care. He drove them up to the Illinois Beach State Park and they just sat on a bench, looking out on the lake.

 

“I haven't done anything like this in a long time,” Jared said quietly.

 

“Told you, you gotta live.”

 

Jared sighed. “Yeah. But it’s not easy. I can’t just go out like this without someone watching my back.”

 

Jensen looked at him, letting worry show on his face. “But… I mean you’re Jared Padalecki. They call you the boy king.”

 

Jared laughed. “They still call me that?”

 

“Last I heard, yeah.” Jensen searched Jared’s expression for discomfort. “Do you mind?”

 

Jared looked pensively out at the lake. “No, actually. When I came back from college… well, I always had a baby face.” Jared grinned wide, popping the dimples in both cheeks.

 

Jensen leaned in to kiss one of them. “I’ll have to bug Sam for pictures. I bet you were adorable.”

 

“I was.” Jared let out a short laugh. “I thought it would be a disadvantage but it really wasn’t. They just underestimated me. None of the old bosses took me seriously. Until I took them out. They started calling me the boy king after and I always thought it was their way of showing respect. The little boy who’d managed to take the throne.”

 

“Nothing about you is little,” Jensen said.

 

Jared shot him a smirk, flashing his dimples again.

 

“And fine, I can see how they thought you’d be harmless, but it sounds like you pretty much have things under control here.”

 

Jared looked out on the water. “Mostly. There are ups and downs. New people come in. Old people I didn’t kill think they can defy me.” He laughed. “Some people say I’m too soft.”

 

“You don’t like to kill people. That’s a good thing.”

 

Hazel eyes focused on Jensen, pinning him down. “Would you date me if I did?”

 

Jensen didn’t need to think to shake his head. “No. I don’t associate with murderers. I’m still not a fan of the rest of your work, but essentially you’re a businessman.”

 

“Not exactly,” Jared said, still looking at him intently. Almost apprehensively. Like he worried what Jensen thought. “I still kill people.”

 

Jensen froze. If he could get details… “How many?”

 

“I shot myself? Or had killed?” Yes, Jared hid it well but Jensen could hear the tension in his voice.

 

Trying to buy time, Jensen slowly took Jared’s hands and turned them around, examining them like they could tell him what they’d done.

 

“They were bad men, sweetheart,” Jared said and his voice was steady again.

 

Jensen interlaced their fingers “And you aren’t?”

 

“Someone has to do it.”

 

Jensen looked up sharply. There was no guilt on Jared’s face, no regret.

 

“Someone has to kill people?”

 

Jared shrugged. “There’s always gonna be crime, Jensen. Always has been. It’s a part of human cohabitation. And either you have someone who controls it, or you have chaos. I take care of the bad seeds, and business can go its way. If I get rich in the process, that’s just a nice byproduct. Okay, a very nice byproduct.”

 

Jensen looked skeptical, drawing his hand back. Jared gripped his wrist.

 

“Jensen, what do you think a sheriff back in the old west had to do? We might have better laws, but we also have better criminals. Someone has to keep things under control and this is the only way."

 

Jensen raised one eyebrow. “So what, you're the sheriff of Chicago?"

 

“Why not? I make my own laws and I uphold them better than the government ever could. There will always be crime; I made it manageable. You can't be starry-eyed and think you can lock everyone up. You gotta pick your battles.”

 

Jensen stared at Jared. There was no lie there, no talking for show. Jared really thought he was doing a good thing.

 

“Jen, you know I’m not one of the bad guys,” Jared said imploringly, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me.”

 

Jensen leaned back and looked out across the water. “What about me then? I don’t do anything for the greater good; I’m just a thief.”

 

Jared snorted. “You’re an adrenaline junkie. And you steal art. It’s not like the rich fuckers can’t afford it. And when Dani told her story… You saved a woman you didn’t know, just because you could. I meant to ask, why did you do it?”

 

Jensen thought back to that day in Miami. Saving Dani had been an impulse decision. Granted, if he’d known back then who she was, he’d have let her get arrested, but back then he’d only seen a person in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught up in a bad situation.

 

“I was always a fan of the whole honor amongst thieves thing. And you never know when you might need a favor.”

 

Jared nodded and drew Jensen in tight. “Why are we having this conversation?”

 

“Because that’s what you do when you’re in a relationship, Jared. You have serious conversations.”

 

“Is that what we’re doing?” Jared asked, but there was a glint in his eyes.

 

Jensen punched him in the shoulder. “Bastard. Let’s get back, I’m hungry.”

  
  
  


 

 

  
  


When Jared went to work at his legal job the next day, Jensen took the bike out. Some of his money, he’d stashed in a safe at Jared’s place, the rest was spread out over various train station lockers. It was pouring rain and by the time he’d collected the cash, he was dripping wet. He just really hoped Heyerdahl would be satisfied.

 

The warehouse wasn’t easy to find, they all looked alike, and Jensen didn’t like going in without backup. He’d decided against telling Jared when Alona had told him that Heyerdahl had been cozying up to the American liaison to a Colombian drug cartel. Apparently the liaison in question had a huge art collection and Heyerdahl had helped him expand. The Lugo Cartel supplied the biggest drug runners in Chicago with product, so Jared would indeed be pissed if the line dried up.

 

After their little trip the other day, Jensen felt comfortable but he still didn’t wanna push it, not if he could solve this problem on his own.

 

He drove around the warehouse once and found a propped-up door. He parked the bike outside and carefully went in. He wasn't carrying a gun since it wasn’t Campbell’s style, but he had a knife in his boot for emergencies.

 

Inside, Heyerdahl and his two goons were waiting. On of them was tall and blond, the other one was taller and had no hair. They looked reasonably attentive for muscle and their stance indicated former military. Great.

 

“Jenny. You brought me my money?”

 

Jensen swallowed, not letting the hated nickname rile him up. He put his backpack on a rickety work bench and started pulling out money bundles.

 

“Your two hundred. Matt’s one hundred for safekeeping. And sixty-six grand from Alexandra’s share.”

 

“I wanted all of it.”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all I have now. You want more, you gotta give me more time.”

 

Heyerdahl tsk’d patronizingly. “What, you couldn’t rob a few convenience stores on your way here? Or is that below you?”

 

“It is indeed. And you know me, I like to keep a low profile.”

 

Heyerdahl drew a knife out of an inner jacket pocket. It was one of his tricks, hiding his knives everywhere and playing with them whenever he wanted to intimidate someone.

 

“Living with the boss of Chicago? Not helping with that, boy.”

 

“Which is why I gotta be more careful than ever. C’mon, Christopher, if you get the thirty grand now or in three weeks, it’s not gonna kill you. And we go way back, man.”

 

Heyerdahl’s teeth glinted in his beard and his blue eyes were cold. “Things change, Jenny.”

 

The two goons pulled their guns on Jensen. He raised his arms reflexively and stared at Heyerdahl. “You won’t get any money if I’m dead.”

 

“You’re right about that. I have to say, it was quite a nice surprise to find you’re shacking up with such a wealthy man.”

 

Fuck. Heyerdahl was getting greedy. The two goons approached. Jensen eyed them warily, but with two guns pointed at him, there wasn’t much he could do. He blocked the blond guy's swing, but he only had two arms and when bald guy hit him in the head with his gun, the world went dark.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Punctuality wasn’t Jensen’s strength. But whenever he was late, he always let Jared know. Always. So when Jensen wasn’t home for dinner, with no message, Jared called him. Jensen didn’t answer. The only time he did that was when he was working a job but Jensen didn’t leave for a job without telling Jared, even if it was just a voicemail.

 

So Jared called Willy. “Where did you drive Jensen today?”

 

“Nowhere,” Willy said. “He took the bike.”

 

Jensen had taken the bike, without telling Jared.

 

Jared tried not to worry, tried to tell himself that Jensen had just gone for a ride but deep down in his gut, he knew something was wrong.

 

He called Chad, who was still downtown.

 

“What’s up?” Chad asked, “I thought you and Jensen are sharing meatballs and making goo goo eyes at each other.”

 

“I’d love to but he isn’t here.”

 

“He blew you off?”

 

Jared took a deep breath, trying not to lose control. “No, he disappeared. Doesn’t answer his phone either.”

 

“So you think…” Chad trailed off but he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Jared had enough horrible explanations in his mind.

 

“Just get Aldis and get him here. I need to know where he is. _Now_.”

 

“You got it,” Chad said and hung up.

 

Jared started to pace. The possibilities were endless. Jensen could have had an accident. Every one of Jared’s rivals could have kidnapped him as leverage.

 

Or he left, a small nasty voice in the back of Jared’s mind supplied. Took the bike and just drove off. He always had a foot out the door anyway. But Jared tried to chase these thoughts away. He knew that Jensen didn’t like to settle and that there was something in his past that made him skittish. He still hadn’t told Jared why he’d taken the job to rob Jared. Jared knew it had to be about the money which opened up a whole other can of worms. Maybe Jensen owed a loan shark, an old business acquaintance, maybe someone was taking revenge on them.

 

Where the fuck were Chad and Aldis?

  
  


It only took Chad fifteen minutes to show up with Aldis.

 

“Jensen isn’t answering his phone,” Jared said curtly. “He went out for a drive when I left for work and we were supposed to have dinner tonight at seven. It isn’t like him not to leave me a message.”

 

“And he’s been weird the last week,” Chad threw in.

 

Aldis nodded and raised his laptop. “Started running a trace in the car but the GPS of his phone is disabled.”

 

Jared balled his hands into fists. It wouldn’t do to scream at his own people now, it wasn’t their fault. He’d thought something was off too, but after their talk yesterday, he’d brushed it aside. He should really listen to his hunches, even if they were as as small as this one.

 

“Just find him, Aldis,” he pressed out.

 

His phone rang right that moment, Jensen's name flashing on the screen. Jared should feel relief but he didn’t. He still was on edge and so was Chad. Of all his people, Chad had the best instincts. Growing up on the streets had that effect.

 

“Yeah?” he answered.

 

“Mr. Padalecki, I assume?” a cold voice asked.

 

Jared signaled Aldis to run a trace on the call and put the phone on speaker. “You assume correctly. Mind my asking who you are and how you came to have this phone?”

 

“Oh, Jensen’s?” the guy asked. “Well, Jenny and I go way back. Christopher Heyerdahl is the name, he never talked about me?”

 

“Can’t say he has,” Jared said and motioned for Chad to check the name.

 

“Well,” Heyerdahl said, voice sliding through the line like pinched metal. “That’s too bad. See, Jenny here was supposed to hold onto some money for me. Unfortunately he lost a bit along the way. Since he’s too proud to ask for help, I thought I’d do it for him. So, I would be mightily obliged if you could settle his debt for him.”

 

Chad had scribbled something on a piece of paper and now he held it up. _Jensen’s old crew runner_ , it read, _nasty SOB_ and _Colombians_. Shit. The mess with the Cartel was already bad enough; if Dani didn’t succeed, he didn’t need to add to it.

 

“How much are we talking here?” Jared asked.

 

“Half a million.”

 

Jared laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

 

The smile was audible in Heyerdahl’s voice when he replied. “No. True, Jensen doesn’t owe quite that much, but if you add interest and compensation for him leading me on, showing up with less than we discussed, and me having to call you… you see how it goes.”

 

“Mhm hm.” Jared didn’t have to try hard to sound unimpressed. This wasn’t the first time someone thought they could play him. “And if I don’t pay?”

 

“Then I start having fun with Jenny. I didn’t bring my whole knife collection, but I always carry my favorite piece with me. Jenny, say hi to your boyfriend.”

 

There was rustling over the line, then he heard Jensen cough in the way someone did after you pulled a gag out of his mouth. Jared was familiar enough with the sound to recognize it.

 

“C’mon Jenny, say hi.” Heyerdahl’s voice was distant, then there was heavy panting.

 

“Jared, ‘m sorry,” Jensen said, voice slurry. “Don’t—” he cut off with a groan. There was some more rustling and then Jensen screamed. “You motherfucking—god fucking dammit.” Jensen's voice was rough with the strain of pain and Jared felt himself go still.

 

Usually he needed an outlet for his anger, but when it got really bad, it turned him cold, calculating, with only one goal. This time it was Heyerdahl staring at his own intestines.

 

“Such a shame,” Heyerdahl said, back on the phone. “Jenny’s got such a pretty face.”

 

“I have no use for a cut up toy,” Jared said coldly. “I only pay for undamaged merchandise.”

 

“Well, then you better hurry. The faster you get here, the smaller the damage.”

 

Heyerdahl hung up, but the phone dinged a moment later, address in a text.

 

“Get Misha down there immediately,” Jared ordered. “Aldis, you’re gonna stay here, see if you can get eyes on him and dig up everything else you can about Heyerdahl. Chad, call Tom, we need to talk about his Colombian suppliers. Mike, you call a few of the guys to meet us down there. I want Heyerdahl’s head on a stick, _now_.”

 

Mike nodded grimly. “It’s gonna be my pleasure, boss.”

 

Jared scrolled through the contacts in his phone and pressed dial when he found the right name. “Tell me you got good news,” he said when Dani picked up.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  


They were quiet on the drive to the warehouse. Mike’s guys were already there.

 

“We scouted the place,” Rachel said. She was one of Chad’s street buddies and had earned her money in underground fight rings before Mike convinced her that life was better on Jared’s payroll.

 

“Jensen’s inside tied to a chair. Looks like they worked him over. Three guys are with him, all of them have guns. And the warehouse is filled with barrels rigged to blow. Looks like they’re filled with industrial fuel.”

 

“Great.”

 

“Don’t worry, Jared,” Misha said. “I’ll take care of the fun stuff. Rachel, why don’t you accompany me to the party favors.”

 

“Freak,” Rachel muttered under breath, but she lead Misha off to the side of the building anyway.

 

Jared checked his guns. “Gentlemen, shall we?”

 

“We shall,” Mike said with a blinding smile.

  
  


When they walked inside, Jared squinted into the half darkness. The lights hanging from the ceiling were dull and sparse, over time too many of them had burned out without being replaced. Barrels and racks littered the place, with random trash lying around. The front half of the hall was cleared of most stuff and that was where Jensen was sitting on a chair, surrounded by three guys. Jared let his eyes trail over Jensen's slumped form, taking stock of his injuries. Blood was hiding most of Jensen's face and there were several more stains on his beige henley. It was too cold not to wear a jacket, but Jensen’s leather jacket was a crumpled heap at his feet. His eyes were open, thin slits in a bloody face. Jared took a deep breath through his nose and told himself that he needed to clear up a few things before he could start shooting.

 

“That’s not undamaged merchandise,” he said coldly.

 

The man who was clearly the leader—older, thin bearded face with cold blue eyes—shrugged his shoulders. “You took quite a while.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what this money business is all about,” Jared said, stopping a few feet from the group. The muscle accompanying Heyerdahl had their weapons drawn, but so did his own men.

 

“Now, I wouldn’t do anything rash, if I were you,” Heyerdahl said, raising a gun and pointing it at Jensen’s belly. “Jenny’s a sitting duck in that chair.”

 

Jared held up his hands. “I came with the money. I just want to be filled in before we do our little transaction.”

 

Heyerdahl eyed the briefcase he was holding. “Show me.”

 

The nerve. “My word is good enough. Now start talking.”

 

Heyerdahl scrutinized him for a moment. Jared thought he must be losing his touch if his reputation wasn’t enough to make a thief cower before him anymore. Then the guy shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Well, Jenny here and I used to work together. He’s quite the talent, your little toy. A riddle wrapped into an enigma. I could never figure him out, but he’s a genius when it comes to stealing pretty things. Unfortunately the last job we did together didn’t go so well. Jenny here took off with the money and now can’t pay all of it back.”

 

“Right.” Jensen’s voice was weak and scratchy and his head was lolling to the side, but he was glaring at them. “Because you decided you wanted all the other’s shares, even that of a dead girl.”

 

One of Heyerdahl’s goons stepped forward and slapped Jensen across the face. Mike flinched, but Jared consoled himself with the knowledge of what he would do to the guy later.

 

“Be that as it may,” Heyerdahl said. “I have Jenny, and if you want him back, you’re gonna pay.”

 

Jared’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out under Heyerdahl’s incredulous look.

 

“One sec,” Jared said, holding up a finger. The message was from Misha. The explosives were taken care of. If Jared knew Misha well enough, he had prepared some other fun stuff for the explosives.

 

“Alright. Let me ask you one thing first. What makes you think I won’t hunt you down and kill you as soon as this deal is over?” Jared asked calmly. On the inside he was seething, but it wouldn’t do to show that quite yet.

 

Heyerdahl smiled. “Oh, a friend of mine. I did some acquisitions for him, without a fee, and now he owes me. One call from me, anything happens to me, he’s going to take his excellent and reasonably-priced product to someone not on your payroll.”

 

“Ah, you’re talking about Hernando Riviera, I assume.”

 

Heyerdahl nodded. “You’re going to risk excellent business relations for your boytoy here?”

 

“Watch your mouth, asshole,’” Jensen grumbled and spat out a mouthful of blood.

 

Then goon stepped forward again and Jared drew his gun. He shot the ground in front of the thug. It wasn’t time for the bloodshed yet. Unfortunately.

 

“You touch him again, you die. Are we clear?”

 

The goon looked to Heyerdahl, then back to Jared. He held his eyes for about a second, then he stepped back. Good. Apparently Jared hadn’t lost his edge completely.

 

“Back to you,” he said, turning his glare on Heyerdahl. “Cut Jensen lose and you get the money.”

 

Heyerdahl shook his head. “Money first.”

 

Jared looked over to the row of work benches along the left side wall. He spotted a bright red gum wrapper lying around there and that’s where he walked and put the briefcase. Then he walked back to Jensen.

 

“There’s your money. Take your men with you.”

 

Heyerdahl nodded. “You untie him before we’re out of here, we’re going to start shooting.”

 

Jared nodded and Heyerdahl and his men walked towards the table. Jared slowly inched over to Jensen’s chair. Chad and Mike were tense, eyes on Heyerdahl. Misha and Rachel appeared between the barrels to their right.

 

When Heyerdahl was a few feet from the bench, Misha raised his hand. Jared shot forwards, gripped Jensen by the arms, blood making his grip slippery and dragged him and the chair behind the barrels. Chad and Mike opened fire, Jared shot over his shoulder and he heard Heyerdahl and his men shooting back. As soon as he was what Misha seemed to deem far enough, he shouted, “get down.”

 

Jared let himself fall, covering Jensen’s body with his own and an explosion shook the warehouse. The force of the blast pushed him down while a heatwave brushed over him.

 

When he looked up, smoke was hanging thick in the air. Chad and Mike were crouching on the ground, but they were fine. Misha appeared from behind the barrels, manic glint in his eyes while he stared at the flames.

 

Jared could make out the shapes of three men lying on the ground at the far side of the hall.

 

“Dammit Misha, I wanted him alive!”

 

Under him, Jensen groaned.

 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

 

Jensen groaned again and opened his eyes. “Everything hurts.”

 

“That’s good. It means everything is still in one piece.”

 

“Don’t worry, Jared, he’s alive,” Misha called over to him.

 

Jared stood up, pulled a knife from his jacket and cut the duct tape binding Jensen's arms and feet, then he pulled him up.

 

“Can you stand?”

 

Jensen swayed slightly, one hand gripping Jared’s arm for leverage. “Yeah, think so.”

 

“Why the fuck you didn’t tell me about Heyerdahl?” It was hard keeping calm and he had to force himself to not shake Jensen like a ragdoll. “What were you thinking, huh?”

 

Jensen looked at him, tired and beat. “I can take care of my own problems.”

 

Jared snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders, then flinched. “Usually. Heyerdahl doesn’t play by the rules.”

 

“We’re gonna talk more about this later,” Jared promised him. “Right now I wanna have a chat with that asshole. Chad!” he nodded over to Jensen and Chad got the hint.

 

He heard Jensen protest, but Jared’s attention was focused on Heyerdahl. He and his two goons had survived the blast, but they were all bloodied. Misha had that serene expression on his face he always got after a good explosion. Rachel and another guy were holding the goons, while Mike held Heyerdahl at gunpoint.

 

“What do we do with these guys, boss?” Rachel asked.

 

“Dump them in the river,” Jared said. “As for Heyerdahl…”

 

Mike grinned and let go of the man. “He’s all yours, boss.”

 

Most of the time, Jared let Mike do the beating up. Jared was the boss, it didn’t befit him to get his hands dirty like this. He wasn't a stranger to physical violence of course, punched the occasional man who fell out of line to make a point, but he just didn’t need it like Mike. Now though, it felt like his blood was cooking in his veins and he saw everything through a thin red veil.

 

He reached back and let his fist fly. It connected with Heyerdahl’s face with a satisfying crunch. Broken cheekbone.

 

“You think you can just lay a hand on him?”

 

The next punch landed in the guy’s stomach. He didn’t want to hit him in the face too often and make him dizzy. He wanted Heyerdahl awake for this.

 

“Think you can play your little game with me?”

 

Two more in the ribs and one to the solar plexus. Heyerdahl collapsed and Mike and one of his guys pulled him up.

 

“Think you can take my money and then just blow me up?”

 

Three more in the stomach, two to the liver. His knuckles started to hurt, but he didn’t give a shit.

 

“Who do you think you are, fucker? You think your business relationship can protect you? From me?”

 

He punched Heyerdahl in the face again and again, not satisfied until blood was flowing from his nose and split lip.

 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what your Colombian friends are gonna do. They’ve been trying to jerk me around forever and now they paid the price. Powers changed hands, and I have a new business partner. The Lugo Capo was more than happy to make a deal with me. So your leverage? No fucking leverage at all.”

 

Heyerdahl gargled something intelligible, but there was nothing Jared wanted to hear from him. He took the guy’s face into his hands.

 

“I’m tempted to let you live, just so you learn your lesson, but I don’t think I want you breathing. So you die. Any last words?”

 

Heyerdahl grinned through the blood. “I underestimated you. My mistake. But Jenny… he’s a mistake too.”

 

Jared smiled condescendingly. “I think not.” He let go of Heyerdahl and drew his gun.

 

“Jenny doesn’t settle down. And he won’t for you either. Free spirit. Or a slut, depending on how—”

 

Jared pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Heyerdahl in the gut and he groaned and toppled over. Mike let him fall to the ground.

 

“That’s a nasty wound, boss. Gonna take him a while to die.”

 

“Yeah, I think so too,” Jared said and dark satisfaction seeped through him as he watched Heyerdahl writhing on the ground in pain.

 

He heard footsteps and then Jensen was standing next to him. “Bullet to the gut?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. I wanted to give him some more time to think about his mistakes.”

 

Jensen walked over to Heyerdahl and carefully knelt down next to him. He was pale and obviously in a lot of pain, but he still bent down to whisper something into Heyerdahl’s ear. Then he punched him right into his face.

 

He almost landed on his ass and Jared moved to steady him. “Take it easy, sweetheart. We should get you home, you need a doctor.”

 

“Yeah,” Jensen said and spat on the ground before Heyerdahl. “Feed him to the fish when he’s gone. He doesn’t deserve a funeral.”

 

Mike raised his eyebrows at the vicious tone but Jared just nodded. “Let the fucker bleed out, then clean the place up. Make sure he’s fish food.”

 

Mike walked over to his duffel and pulled out a hatchet. “Will do, boss.”

 

Jared helped Jensen outside and into the SUV. Jensen was bleeding all over the seats, but Jared didn’t care.

 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Jared asked again, barely able to suppress his anger. Jensen could have _died_. Over money.

 

Jensen sighed. “Can we do this later? When I’m not on the verge of passing out?” His voice wobbled and his body slumped, so Jared made sure he was comfortable.

 

“Yeah. But you’re not getting out of it.”

 

Jensen didn’t respond, he’d already fallen unconscious. Jared turned on the light in the back seat and examined Jensen’s wounds more closely. His henley was heavy with blood and there were more cuts than he’d thought. His skin was cool to the touch and his pants were still damp from the rain.

 

“Winston, step on it.”

 

“You got it, boss.”

 

 

 

 

  


When Jensen woke up, his whole body hurt. Fuck. Heyerdahl had really cut him up bad. He slowly tried to move, but a cool hand on his wrist stopped him.

 

“Don't move too much yet,” Sam said. “The Doc says you should take it easy. He had to sew some of the cuts. It also looks like you caught a cold.”

 

Jensen coughed and slowly let his hands trail over his arms, torso and legs, assessing the damage.

 

“You have thirteen cuts,” Sam said. “Four with stitches.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

It was quiet for a moment, then Jensen looked to Sam. She had a disapproving look on her face.

 

“Are you mad at me?” he asked incredulously.

 

“You should have told Jared. It was stupid to take a risk like that.”

 

Jensen closed his eyes and wondered how often he’d need to explain himself.

 

“Can I get some water? And something for the pain?” he asked and Sam wordlessly handed him a glass and a pill. “Look, I know it was risky, but usually I do pretty well on my own.”

 

Sam scoffed. “Boy, I saw your body when the doc patched you up. You have a lot of scars for someone who thinks he can take care of himself.”

 

“Well, I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Jensen asked. “Besides, you know as well as I do what Jared would’ve done if I’d asked him for money.”

 

Sam tilted her head. “And what would that have been?”

 

“Thrown me out.”

 

Sam raised her eyebrows.

 

Jensen made a face. “Jared doesn’t like gold diggers and he would’ve thought I was only here for money and protection. And you know what, I wouldn’t blame him. The timing was damn suspicious.”

 

“Don’t you think you underestimate what he feels for you?”

 

“No.” Jensen scoffed. “Let’s not fool ourselves here. I know you guys all want this to be the big rainbow romance, but it doesn’t work that way. Jared was ready to think I was a traitor just a few weeks ago, pointed a gun at me and the whole shebang.” Jensen dragged a hand through his hair and shit, that hurt. Everything hurt.

 

“You’ve got to understand his side,” Sam said.

 

Jensen shot her a look and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw the shadow of someone standing in the hallway. Well. Even if that wasn’t Jared it wouldn’t hurt to show Sam some feelings.

 

“I do understand his side. Which is how I know that he would’ve never kept me around if he’d known about Heyerdahl. And, I mean, it’s not like I planned to stick around for long anyway, and then when I did... I knew if I wanted a shot with him, I had to figure it out on my own. Looks liked that backfired, though.” Jensen coughed again and stared morosely up to the ceiling. “He’ll still think I came to him for the money and now I’ve lied to him, so he’ll be double pissed.”

 

Sam carefully patted his head. “How about I bring you some breakfast and some tea?”

 

Jensen tried to give her a grateful smile, but his face hurt. “That’d be great, thanks.”

 

“And you, boy,” Sam said when she stood up and walked out the door, “You’re too old to be listening at doors.”

 

Slowly, Jared stepped into the room. So Jensen had been right. Good. Unfortunately, Jared didn’t look appeased so Jensen was in for another lecture. Maybe even a relationship ending argument. Great.

 

“If you wanna yell at me, can that wait until the pain meds kick in?”

 

Jared walked over to the bed and sat down on the chair Sam had just vacated. There were deep circles under his eyes.

 

“You look like shit,” Jensen remarked dryly.

 

“Says the guy who looks like Edward Scissorhands.”

 

“Thanks. Way to make a guy feel better.”

 

“Jensen.”

 

“Jared.”

 

“Don’t ever lie to me again.” Jared’s voice was hard. “If there’s one thing I can’t forgive it’s dishonesty. You lie to me like that again and we’re over.”

 

Jensen looked back at Jared. There was a hard line around his mouth, but he looked more desperate than angry. Or maybe that was just the pain meds kicking in.

 

“I didn’t lie. I just... omitted the truth.”

 

“Semantics. Heyerdahl could’ve killed you.”

 

“Aww, were you worried?” Jensen tried to joke, but Jared didn’t smile. Instead he leaned forward and glared at Jensen.

 

“What do you think I thought when I saw you hanging in that fucking chair, covered in blood?”

 

“That you don't pay for damaged merchandise,” Jensen quoted Jared’s words back at him.

 

Jared looked down and made an exasperated sound. “You goddamn stupid bastard.” Then he leaned forward and kissed Jensen.

 

Now usually Jensen was all for the kissing because Jared was damn good kisser, but even with the pain meds, his lips hurt. Jared drew back when he heard the whimper that escaped Jensen and tenderly brushed his thumb across Jensen's busted lip.

 

“Just don’t do it again.”

 

Jensen nodded. “I’ll try.”

 

Jared stood up. “I need to go take care of some things; seems I have a new business associate who’s anxious to meet me.”

 

Jensen raised the arm that hurt less to wave him off. “See if someone can find me some anti-scarring lotion.” Wrecked by another coughing fit, he fell back into the pillows.

 

 

 

  
  


It took Jensen a while to recover. He called Alona on the second day and she was worried. Since Jensen was in the house when he called her, from his own phone, they had to act their parts the whole time, but Jensen could tell she was furious about the whole thing. Jensen didn’t give a fuck. He’d handled it the best way he could and now he could see how worried Jared had been about him which was definitely a good sign.

 

When Jensen was able to walk around, he spent lot of time on the couch. Chad, Misha and Rosey kept him company. Dani came to town for a few days and they played Go Fish for hours and just talked. Dani wasn’t shy to share her work stories with Jensen and he made mental notes about every person she’d killed. He would give all the info to Morgan but he doubted they would find evidence to make it stick. Jensen tried to ignore the feeling of relief.

 

Sam chatted with him whenever she wasn’t busy keeping the household running and Jensen joined her more and more in the kitchen, polishing his rusty cooking and baking skills. It was a bit like helping his mom.

 

Those bouts of longing for his family, they hit him out of nowhere. Usually, he was good at not thinking about them, didn’t even miss home that much, but here, in this house, with such a familial atmosphere, Sam mothering him and Dani being an annoying little sister, while Rosey and Chad managed to play the parts of the overbearing older brothers frighteningly well — it was like Jensen was in a funhouse, and he couldn’t find the way out.

 

He started missing the good things from home, and all the reasons that had made him want to leave faded in the background. He remembered baking Christmas cookies with his mom, his brother taking him out to drink his first beer, playing games with Cat, and throwing a football with his father.

 

But even if he wanted to talk to his parents, he couldn’t call them from his normal phone. He’d have to pick up a burner again and that would have to wait until he could get out of the house. Living with his target seriously impaired his communication ability. Not to mention keeping his head straight.

 

Less and less, he had to think about what to say. Campbell’s answers came more and more naturally and without effort. Campbell had always been the personality closest to Jensen, but Jensen adapted his habits and mannerisms with frightening ease. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure if what he’d done was himself or Campbell, but no one in the house ever raised an eyebrow. They didn’t seem to find any inconsistencies in Jensen’s behavior. The biggest problem was that Jensen had always liked Campbell and now, he liked _being_ Campbell. Which begged the question of how much of Campbell was make believe and how much was a side Jensen hadn’t allowed himself to explore before?

 

When Jared fucked him through the mattress, holding his wrists until they bruised, Jensen liked it. He’d never done it that rough before and he’d thought that the whole begging-for-it routine would revolt him but he liked that too. As a matter of fact, Jensen liked a whole lot of things Jared did that he thought he’d hate. He loved the sex, loved the arguments, loved toeing the line in their everyday life, pushing Jared and riling him up, loved seeing how crazy he could make him. Loved seeing how far Jared would go for him. It was an adrenaline rush, not unlike jumping off a building.

 

Jensen knew he was an adrenaline junkie but he’d never be able to live it as excessively as he did when he was Jensen Campbell. It would be hard to come down from that. But Jensen couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about any of that. He had a job to do.

  
  


When Jensen had been laid up for a week, the two FBI agents stopped by again for some bogus reason—grilling Jared about where he’d been two night before. They had nothing on him, of course and Jensen suspected that Morgan has sent them to check on him. It was nice, sort of. The problem was, as soon as Jensen was mobile again, he’d have to start bringing Morgan some real information he could use and Jared still wasn’t keen on talking business with Jensen. He’d have to get creative.

  
  
  


As it turned out, Chad and Rosey were much more likely to talk business with Jensen. He mostly pretended to be half-bored by their stories and he used taunts and good natured sarcasm to get them talking. It was already October when he finally managed to slip Morgan some real info about a storage place and a drop point for a big shipment. He tried not to think about it too much in the days leading up to the date, but Jared was calm and unworried.

 

That changed when they were having breakfast together the morning after the drop. Jared was in a good mood until he switched on the television to watch the morning news. A police raid had gone down in Washington Park; a criminal had been shot.

 

There was no news about secured illegal weapons or arrests and Jensen was confused, while Jared was fuming, calling Chad and telling him he’d meet him downtown in twenty minutes.

 

“So I assume this has something to do with you?” Jensen asked, when Jared got off the phone.

 

“Yeah,” Jared said curtly. “I’ll call you later.” And then he was out the door. He hadn’t been this short with Jensen in a long time; something must really be wrong.

 

Jensen was still worried about the coverage, something just wasn’t right. He was itching to call Morgan or Alona, but that was way too risky. He tried to distract himself, took the dogs out for a run in the crisp fall air, and went for a swim in the heated pool, but he was antsy the whole day until Jared sent him a message to meet him for dinner.

  
  


Jared was waiting for him at a family-owned diner he liked to frequent for their great burgers. He was standing by his usual table in the back, shaking a woman’s hand. She had gray-streaked brown hair and next to Jared she looked tiny. She was smiling at him, but there were tears in her eyes and her posture screamed of grief.

 

Jensen stopped in the entrance area, not sure he should intrude and waited for her to say goodbye and walk past him. She didn’t even notice him, pulling a tissue out of her handbag to wipe her tears away.

 

When Jensen reached the table, Jared was sitting down again.

 

“Who was she?” Jensen asked while he sat down across from Jared. He tried for casual, but Jared still raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

 

“You’re usually not this curious.”

 

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, well, this is unusual.”

 

Jared leaned back in his chair, eyeing Jensen speculatively. “Alright. Her name’s Miranda Kelly, her son Brock was shot last night.”

 

“He worked for you,” Jensen said, but Jared shook his head.

 

“No. Brock was just a small-time dealer, mostly for rich kids looking for a fix. But the warehouse he got shot in, that’s one of my stash houses. Since the Feds can’t tell their heads from their asses, they missed my shipment and instead decided to shoot up a nineteen year-old kid selling a bit of dope.”

 

“What?” Jensen stared at Jared in horror. That couldn’t be right. Even if they’d missed the shipment, they wouldn’t just go in, guns blazing. They wouldn’t just start shooting without good intel.

 

“Yeah,” Jared said grimly. “I was warned a couple of days ago they found the place, so I moved the goods.”

 

“That’s great,” Jensen interrupted him. “But how could they not realize the warehouse was empty? How could they just go in there, shooting?”

 

Jared eyed him curiously. “I have no idea, but I’m not surprised. They’re screwing their investigation up every chance they get. What surprises me is that you care so much.”

 

“A kid, Jared, they shot a kid! How could I not care?”

 

They’d shot a kid. On Jensen’s intel. This was impossible. If he could get away without raising suspicion, he’d already be on the phone with Morgan. As it was that had to wait. There had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe they just faked his death because they’d turned him against Jared? But Jared had said Brock didn’t work for him. Maybe… Jensen tried and tried but he couldn't find a way to spin this into a satisfying explanation.

 

“Who did you lose?”

 

Jensen abruptly looked up. “What?”

 

“Who did you lose?” Jared asked again. “You don’t get riled up over something like this, not this much, unless it reminds you of something that happened to you.”

 

Jensen closed his eyes and for a moment he was back in a dark alley in New York. “Nothing,” he said hoarsely, “nothing happened to me.”

 

“Bullshit,” Jared said softly, taking his hand. “C’mon, Jensen, you can tell me. Just… tell me? Just this once.”

 

“She was so young,” Jensen heard himself saying. He hadn’t talked—hell, hadn’t thought about Annie in years, but now it came rushing back.

 

“It was dark in the alley and the police were chasing us. She was just a girl, mixed up with the wrong crowd, you know? The guys who chased us, they thought she had a gun and they shot her. Just like that, in an alley, like she was a piece of trash.”

 

Jensen knew the officer in question had been devastated about it, had resigned the same day and probably never picked up a weapon again, but that didn’t change the fact that Annie was dead.

 

“There were three people at her funeral,” Jensen said with a hollow voice. Since his undercover assignment had come to an end the day after Annie had been shot, and he’d ‘fled the country’ to protect the cover, he hadn’t even been able to stand at her coffin. He’d watched the funeral from afar, hiding behind tall gravestones.

 

“I know the guy just panicked, made a mistake and his life is probably never gonna be the same. I don’t… I was angry at him for a long time. I’m not anymore. I’m just angry at this fucking world.”

 

Jensen stared at the white tablecloth and the little candle sitting in the middle of the table. He wasn’t seeing it, not really.

 

“I’ll pay for Brock’s funeral,” Jared said quietly. “And I’ll go. If you want, you can come with me.”

 

Jensen nodded without looking up. “Yeah. That might be nice.”

  
  


 

 

 

 

  
  


“How the fuck did that happen?” Jensen yelled into the phone as soon as Morgan picked up. “Nineteen, you bastard, he was nineteen!”

 

Morgan sighed. “I know. The whole thing was a mess, okay? Someone must’ve leaked this to Padalecki even though we kept the operation small. Only the task force and the SWAT team knew, we’re checking everything right now to see— “

 

“I don’t give a fuck who leaked what,” Jensen snarled. “What I want to know is how you could shoot an innocent kid in an empty warehouse!”

 

“He wasn’t innocent, Ackles,” Morgan bit back. “He was a drug dealer. And since we didn’t know the warehouse was empty, we thought he was guarding Padalecki’s merchandise.”

 

“He was a small-time dope dealer! Since when do they deserve the death penalty, huh? And since when do you shoot people who are on guard? What kind of fucked-up operation was this?”

 

“Look, I know that what happened is regrettable—”

 

“Regrettable?” Jensen almost shouted. “How about a fucking tragedy? Next, you’re going to tell me a little collateral damage is okay.”

 

“Well, it does happen,” Morgan said quietly.

 

“No. Not on my watch, not with my intel. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“Ackles, do I need to pull you out? ‘Cause right now it doesn’t seem like your head is in the game.”

 

“A boy died, I’m allowed to show some fucking emotion. And if you pull me out, how are you gonna get to Jared, huh? Your department has more holes than Swiss cheese and you have no fucking clue about any of his operations. You need me, and you need me here. And I’m going to stay here and the next time I give you information, you better not mess it up!”

 

Jensen hung up and smashed the phone into the wall. After that call, he would’ve needed to destroy it anyway.

  



	11. Chapter 11

  
  


Ever since the failed FBI raid on his warehouse, Jared had been bad tempered. His patience ran thinner than usual and he was curt with Jensen, unwilling to indulge in Jensen’s extravagant demands for frozen yogurt in the middle of the night, which had become a staple of their relationship. When Jensen had pointed out that Jared shouldn’t take him for granted, Jared hadn’t even tried to make up for it, not even with sex. As a matter of fact, apart from the occasional quick and hard fuck, they didn’t have sex at all. And where Jared usually was an attentive lover and took pleasure in taking Jensen apart and making him beg, he took his own pleasure selfishly now. Jensen wouldn’t have thought it possible after the beginning of their relationship, but he was actually having bad sex and if he wouldn’t get himself off during, he doubted that Jared would care much about his orgasms.

 

It made Jensen uneasy, that Jared’s bad mood was able to sway his behavior towards Jensen so much. Jensen had started to feel secure in his position, especially after the whole Heyerdahl fiasco, had thought Jared really cared about him, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. The realization hurt more than he expected but he couldn’t let that fuck with his head, he needed to stay sharp.

 

There had been a lot of conversations with Chad about who had leaked the information. Jensen didn’t know who ended up taking the blame and he didn’t ask either. Even after it was all done, Jared’s black mood remained. Jensen had picked up pieces of conversations here and there and it sounded like Jared was having bigger problems than the Feds. It had been two weeks since the raid now and Jensen Campbell’s patience had run out. He was done walking on eggshells, was done with cutting back at his own expenses. Besides, it was time Jensen figured out if Jared was more in the mood to talk now.

 

They were having breakfast together, because Jared had worked out after getting up, meaning it was a tolerable time for Jensen to get out of bed. Jared was quiet and Jensen decided to take action. He put his coffee cup down, walked over to Jared, pushed his plate away and sat down on the table’s edge in front of him.

 

“Are you ever gonna tell me what’s bugging you or do I have to just wait it out?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen saw Sam enter, stop and nod encouragingly at him before she turned around and left again. Apparently Jensen wasn’t the only one fed up with Jared’s mood.

 

Jared quirked his lips into something that Jensen thought was a tie between amusement and annoyance.

 

“Just boring mob stuff.”

 

Jensen threw up his hands. “Yes, but it’s enough to cockblock me, so start talking.”

 

Jared’s face darkened and he leaned back. “We have sex.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it sex,” Jensen shot back.

 

Jared crossed his arms in front of his chest, biceps bulging under his shirt. “Really? What would you call it then?”

 

Jensen pursed his lips. It was easy to turn his hurt into anger. “You using me like a blow up doll to get off?”

 

Jared’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought we’d ever have bad sex either,” Jensen said, continuing quickly at Jared’s enraged expression, “but your dick doesn’t make up for your complete lack of attention. It’s the technique that counts, babe, not the equipment.”

 

Jared stood slowly, very deliberately put his hands on Jensen’s knees and pushed them apart. “You have problems with my technique?” he asked darkly, slowly sliding his hands up Jensen’s legs. 

 

Jensen gripped Jared’s wrists, stopping their ascent. “It’s more the absence of your technique. The last two weeks I can’t count the times your mouth was anywhere below my waistline because it didn’t happen. You didn’t even give me a proper kiss.”

 

Jared opened his mouth, then closed it again.

 

“Exactly. Apart from that one time, you didn’t even let me blow you. So, start talking. Because ‘boring mob stuff’ is not an excuse for treating me like shit.”

 

For a moment, Jensen thought he’d pushed to far but then the tension leaked out of Jared’s shoulder and he leaned forward, burying his head in Jensen’s shoulder. His hands found their way under Jensen's shirt, stroking over his back. The gesture was so intimate, so unexpected, it made something warm bloom in Jensen’s chest.

 

“It’s just this mess with the fucking La13.” Jared’s voice was nothing more than a low rumble.

 

“Thirteen, schmirteen,” Jensen said, leaning down to kiss Jared’s head and hiding his surprise at Jared’s involvement with the 13th Street gang. He hadn’t even known they were  _ in _ Chicago. He’d have to ask Alona for the FBI’s files on them. “What evil things are they doing, hm?”

 

Jared snorted. “Somehow I don’t feel like you’re taking this seriously.”

 

Jensen drew back, pushed Jared into his chair, pulled in a chair for himself and sat down in front of Jared, crossing his legs. “I am taking this very seriously. After all, my ass is on the line.”

 

Jared shook his head. “Tell me again why I put up with you and your bad puns?”

 

Jensen looked meaningfully down his body, then back at Jared. “You know why. And no more puns, no more jokes.” He straightened up. “What’s going on?”

 

Jared leaned back. “I don’t know what to tell you. Usually I have things under control here. Then a couple of months ago, the head of the Mexican gang died. Lung cancer. Anyway, his sons weren’t agreeing on succession and I don’t get involved in their personal problems as long as they still dance to my pipe. Problem was, with them fighting, one of their cousins from down south thought he could take over. He did, and well, he’s not as willing to deal with me as the rest of his family was. He’s been causing trouble, butting heads with the bikers, not paying protection and ripping off some meth labs outside of his territory. He’s generally being a nuisance, but I found out he’s got a lot of backing from La13, so if I go to war with him, it’s gonna be a mess.”

 

In situations like this, sometimes law enforcement encouraged a gang war. Criminals taking each other out, it was convenient. But usually the body count of innocent people was too high and if Jared was hesitant to resort to violence when he never had before, it must be bad. The 13th street gang was one of the most powerful gangs in the southwest, Jared would do well to tread carefully with them.

 

“So find a diplomatic solution,” Jensen said.

 

“I tried. But it isn‘t easy and the longer I wait, the weaker I appear.”

 

Jensen's brain started spinning the problem, and he spoke out loud before he could stop himself.

 

“So take a stand: Not something that leads to an outright war, just help some of those meth cookers get revenge. Tell him the protection money isn’t just for show. He’ll know you’re serious, maybe that’ll get him back to the table.”

 

Jared cocked his head. “That’s not a bad idea. How do you so much about how to handle street gangs?”

 

Fuck. Jensen grinned. “I watch a lot of  _ Burn Notice _ . If I’d ever leave you, it’d be for Michael Westen,” he added. Making Jared jealous was always a good deflection technique.

 

Jared leaned over quickly, kissing him deep and dirty. “You sure about that?”

 

It took Jensen a moment to answer. “As far as fictional characters go, he’s pretty hot.”

 

Jared stood up and pulled out his phone. “How about this? I set up a meeting with Chad for tonight and until then I’m all yours.”

 

“I can live with that,” Jensen said and got up. “Go get your helmet, we’re going for a drive.”

 

Jared raised an eyebrow sardonically and reached for Jensen’s leg again. “I thought you wanted sex.”

 

Jensen leaned in for a short kiss. “Later. Right now I want to spend some quality time with you.”

 

“Alright. But I’ll take my own bike this time. No offence, sweetheart, but riding shotgun isn't really my style.”

 

Jensen rolled his eyes but Jared stepped into his space and kissed him, long and deep, obviously making up for lost time. When he pulled back, Jensen’s lips felt swollen and he was breathing heavily.

 

Jared grinned. “Changed your mind about that ride?”

 

“Oh, no, we are going for that ride.”

 

Jared laughed. Jensen’s tone had left no doubt about what kind of ride he’d take when they’d get back. But why wait that long?

 

So when they pulled up their bikes on a little clearing at a secluded spot on the lake, Jensen got out the blanket he’d packed. Jared quirked his eyebrows but didn't complain when Jensen pushed him down on the ground and then slowly, torturously rode him to completion. Jared just held on, digging his fingers into Jensen’s thighs and let him run the show.

  
  
  


Despite their little trip, Jared was in a weird mood the next day.

 

“What’s up?” Jensen asked, scanning Jared’s face for signs of anger, but he just looked slightly agitated.

 

“Well, I was thinking. Thanksgiving is coming up.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Thanksgiving was a big affair at the Ackles house and Jensen hated that he’d have to miss it. Again.

 

Jensen dragged a hand through his hair, a sign of discomfort he rarely showed. “I usually go to dinner at my father’s house. I’d like for you to come.”

 

For a moment, Jensen didn’t know what to say. He’d never met either Jared’s father or brother. He knew that Jared did business with them, but they’d never come to Jared’s place. The few times he knew they’d met, they’d used Jared’s brother’s condo downtown. Getting invited to the old Padalecki house, that was new.

 

Jensen forced his face into a neutral expression. He needed to know whose idea this had been. “Okay. You don’t look thrilled by this.”

 

Jared exhaled heavily. “No, it’s not that. It’s just, my father wants to meet you and that’s great, but my brother… Usually I don’t give a fuck what he thinks about my lifestyle, but I don’t want you to have to listen to that.”

 

Jared wanted to protect him. Jensen was oddly moved.

 

“Look, I appreciate it, but I don't mind meeting your family. And if your brother turns out to be a homophobic asshole, well he’s not the first one I’ve met and he won’t be the last.”

 

Jared scoffed. “It won’t be that bad. Daniel knows to keep his mouth shut in my company.”

 

“Then what are you worried about?”

 

“He just has this way, snide little comments, you know.”

 

“You sure he’s not just jealous?” Jensen had been wondering for a while how the rest of the family felt about Jared taking over.

 

Jared gave a pained smile. “Yeah, maybe. I just wish we could get through one family holiday without fighting.”

 

“Why, Mr. Padalecki,” Jensen said, stepping up to Jared and pressing a light kiss to his neck, “I never knew what a softie you are.”

 

Jared gripped his neck and kissed him hard. “I’m not.” He paused and Jensen wasn’t sure if he would say something else, but he had a feeling, so he leaned into Jared’s body, nuzzling his neck.

 

“My mom was killed on Christmas. Holidays are hard for my father.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said softly. “You ever find out who did it?”

 

Jared nodded. “Took me a while, not like the police were of any help.” He scoffed. “Wife of a criminal dies, it’s clearly her own damn fault.”

 

Jensen hugged Jared tighter. He knew how that went. Other cases took priority over crime-related hits.

 

“But it had nothing to do with us,” Jared continued, voice tight. “Just a random robbery gone wrong.”

 

“But you found them?” Jensen asked.

 

“Oh yeah. First time I pulled the trigger.”

 

Jensen didn’t ask how old he’d been. Honestly, it didn’t matter. Jared had dealt with it the only way he’d known how, and Jensen couldn’t even blame him. He knew that if his family were killed and he were standing in front of those responsible, gun in hand, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Sometimes, the law just wasn’t enough.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Jared abruptly drew back.

 

“C’mon,” he said, voice dark and eyes hard. He dragged Jensen upstairs and Jensen followed without resistance.

 

He let his body be pliant under Jared’s hurried hands, let himself fall back onto the bed when Jared pushed and didn’t protest when Jared rolled him around, taking him fast and dirty from behind. At least this time, Jared made sure to angle himself just right and made Jensen come right before he did.

 

After, when they were lying breathlessly next to each other, it suddenly occurred to Jensen why Jared had an aversion to doing it face to face. It made him vulnerable, let him be seen without his calm facade. He’d let go of that after a while, trusting Jensen enough, but when he was emotionally riled up, he still protected himself like this.

  
  
  


Later that night, when Jared had gone off to a meeting with Chad, Jensen got a bottle of white wine out of Jared’s impressive wine cellar and went out to the little house a few yards off the main building’s side.

 

When Sam opened the door, Jensen gave her his most winning smile. “Hey, Sam. You got a minute? I might have to spend Thanksgiving with the Padaleckis and it seems there are things I should know.”

 

Sam eyed first Jensen, then the wine. “You better come in, boy, this might take a while.”

  


 

 

 

  
  


Jared had gotten home in the middle of the night, smelling like wine and cigars, so Jensen was actually awake before him in the morning. He stole down to the kitchen, made scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee, and woke Jared with breakfast in bed. After his talk with Sam he’d come up with a plan but it would be a good idea to butter Jared up a little before he made his play.

 

Jared rubbed his eyes and stared at Jensen as if he’d grown another head. “It’s not my birthday today, so what the fuck is going on?”

 

“Can’t I just be nice to my boyfriend?” Jensen asked innocently and handed Jared a coffee cup.

 

Jared snorted and reached for the plate with the bigger amount of food. His metabolism was insane. “No. So what’s up?”

 

“How about you don’t go to work today and stay here with me instead?”

 

“Jensen…”

 

“Here, as in this bed,” Jensen said and carefully climbed into Jared’s lap. “Well, we could spend some time in your bathtub too.”

 

Jensen leaned forward and kissed Jared, grinding his hips down on the growing erection he could feel. “Just today, babe, please.”

 

Jared groaned but put his cup and plate on the nightstand to grip Jensen's hips. “You’re lethal, sweetheart.”

 

Jensen grinned and took his shirt off. “You have no idea.”

  
  
  


Much later, they were lying in the bed, surrounded by rumpled sheets, half the pillows strewn across the floor. Outside, the rain was beating against the windows.

 

“Aren’t you glad you’re in here with me?” Jensen asked.

 

Jared just hummed, eyes closed. “We should get lunch,” he said with a rough voice. “You think we can ask Sam to come up here?”

 

Jensen laughed. “This room reeks of sex. I think I better go down.”

 

“Yeah. Later,” Jared murmured and tightened his grip around Jensen’s hips.

 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Jensen said after a while. “About your brother.”

 

Behind him, Jared immediately tensed. “What about him?”

 

Jensen had read up on Daniel Padalecki before he started the assignment. He was his father's right hand, had contacts all over the US and oversaw a hefty part of the weapons trade. He was hot-headed and short-sighted, definitely not the brains behind the operation. Last night, Sam had filled in the rest of the blanks. How Jared had always gotten more attention because he’d been so young when their mother died, because Jared had his mother’s eyes and her smile, and because Jared was the golden boy, smart and accomplished at everything he did. Not that he and his father had a close relationship but compared to his brother, Jared certainly received more praise. He’d been the one to help his father expand his business, had sent money and ideas from Stanford. Jensen wasn’t surprised that that was where the smuggling money had gone off to. Now that Jared was running Chicago, he and Daniel were more distant than ever. Sam had told Jensen more stories, of jealousy and pettiness and Jared owned his fair share of the blame.

 

If Jensen played this right, he could get rid of Daniel Padalecki and Jared’s expansion wishes in San Francisco at the same time.

 

“Well, I was thinking. You and Daniel obviously butt heads; why not give him some responsibility to mend bridges? A leadership position without actually giving him power. Make him the face of the Padalecki family, give him wine and women and he won’t even realize he’s just your puppet king.”

 

Jared gripped Jensen's shoulder and pulled him around so they were lying face-to-face. “What do you mean?”

 

Jensen tried to shrug his shoulders as casually as possible. “Well, you want to expand into San Francisco, right? Send Daniel there. That way, he’ll be out of Chicago and you’ll have a blood relative representing you.”

 

“How do you know about San Francisco?” Jared asked, voice hard.

 

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I have ears. I overheard the guys talking and I asked Chad about it. He didn’t say much, don’t worry, but Tapping would only want you dead if you were a threat, so it wasn’t a big leap to make.”

 

Jared sighed, but Jensen saw the smile tugging at his mouth. “You know, for a little art thief, you know way too much about the business.”

 

“Knowledge is power,” Jensen said, laying it on thick. “I’m serious, though. Chad mentioned that you already have someone in San Francisco who's going to lead the operation, why not send Daniel out there as a figurehead?”

 

Jared seemed to ponder this for a moment. “It’s a good idea actually.”

 

Jared smiled at Jensen and there was something in that smile that made Jensen think he was missing something.

 

“Alright, maybe I’ll call Daniel tomorrow, see what he thinks,” Jared said. “What would I do without you, hm?”

 

Jensen grinned and pressed a kiss to Jared’s throat. “Crash and burn, babe.”

 

He’d have to call Alona later.

  
  
  


 

 

 

  
  


“So, Thanksgiving is cancelled.”

 

Jensen looked up from his book. He was lounging on the couch, waiting for Jared to get back from work, although he hadn’t expected him home this early.

 

“What?”

 

Jared dragged a hand through his hair and threw his suit jacket on the couch, opening the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

 

“Jake just called me. Daniel got himself arrested. I swear to god, it was a bulletproof setup and Daniel is there for one fucking week and gets arrested.”

 

Jensen suppressed a smile. “Shit,” he said, trying to look sympathetic. “Do you know what happened?”

 

“Not exactly. Jake just said Daniel tried to make a deal on his own and the dealer turned out to be an undercover Fed. I don’t know how Daniel fell for it, but me and Sheppard are gonna fly out and sort this mess out.”

 

Mark Sheppard was the Padalecki family lawyer, a pleasant slimeball if Jensen had ever seen one.

 

“So, no Thanksgiving dinner then?”

 

Jared shook his head. “I’m sure Sam will rustle something up. Sorry, sweetheart.”

 

Jensen smiled and took Jared’s hand, pulling him down on the couch. “You have time for a little pick-me-up before you have to leave?”

 

Jared kissed Jensen, but pulled back reluctantly. “I wish I did, but I don’t. I need to figure out what the hell Daniel was thinking.”

 

Another kiss and Jared was gone. Jensen smiled into his book. He knew what Daniel had been thinking; half the plan had been his idea. Preying on Daniel’s weaknesses, on his jealousy toward Jared, it hadn’t been hard to offer him a deal outside of Jared’s contacts that promised him more power. Well, if Morgan and the Task Force had done their job right this time, Daniel Padalecki would go to jail for a few years at least.

  
  
  


His suspicion was confirmed when Jared called late that night, bitching about Daniel being stupid, but maybe he’d finally learn his lesson this way. Jensen apologized for even suggesting it, but Jared shrugged it off.

 

“I was the one who made the decision and it was a good idea. It’s Daniel’s own damn fault for being so stupid.”

 

“So we’re good?” Jensen asked and Jared just laughed.

 

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

 

“Well, I’d feel terrible if I messed up San Francisco for you…”

 

“You’re adorable, baby, but don't worry. San Francisco has been drying up for a while. If Daniel hadn’t been stupid, he still wouldn’t have been able to keep the business afloat.”

 

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “You set him up.”

 

“No, he set himself up,” Jared said harshly. “If he’d done what he was supposed to the only thing that would’ve happened is that he’d learned some humility. Besides, Cassidy found me another venue that’s going to be much more profitable than the original plan in San Francisco.”

 

Jensen pushed the relief down, told himself it was an instinctive Campbell reaction. “That’s good,” he said and hoped his voice didn’t sound too hollow.

 

“Yeah, it is. Listen, Jen, I gotta go, I need to figure things out as long as I’m here, but I’m flying back on Sunday, okay?”

 

“I’ll miss you,” Jensen said.

 

“Take care of the dogs for me,” was the only thing Jared said but there was a smile in his voice.

 

So Jared had new plans. Well, Jensen had given Morgan all the intel he had and now he had another name—Cassidy. It wasn’t Jensen’s fault if they only ever managed to get partial information and half-truths.

 

Jensen whistled for the dogs. “Hey guys. How about we go for a late night stroll, huh?”

 

They wagged their tails excitedly and Jensen grabbed a jacket and a scarf against the cold November weather. He needed fresh air.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  


Usually Jared let Jensen sleep in. He got up quietly at an ungodly hour to work out or run with the dogs and if Jensen woke up, he just pulled the covers up and Jared let him be. Sometimes though, Jensen was woken up like this, slow, lazy kisses on his neck or up and down his spine, gentle hands rolling him over and pulling down his briefs.

 

Jensen hummed in approval. “No work today?” he asked, voice raspy. Light was already filtering in through the blinds so it was past the time Jared usually left their bedroom.

 

“No work,” Jared said quietly. “It’s a special day today.”

 

“Special day?” Jensen asked, trying to make his sleep-addled brain figure out what the hell Jared was talking about.

 

Jared just laughed. “Don’t strain yourself, sweetheart, not before you had your coffee.”

 

Jensen grumbled, was just about to go for a bitchy reply when the scent of freshly-brewed heaven registered.

 

“Coffee in bed? But it’s not even my birthday.”

 

“No, but it is an anniversary,” Jared said, smile in his voice.

 

Jensen slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to locate the coffee cup.

 

“Anniversary of what?” he asked distractedly.

 

“Of us, baby. Six months.”

 

Jensen froze. Shit. Jared wanted to celebrate their anniversary? He really hadn’t counted on that happening.

 

“I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to celebrate anniversaries,” Jensen said carefully and reached for the coffee. Maybe with enough caffeine he would figure out what rabbit hole he’d tumbled down.

 

Jared chuckled. “Oh, but this one is special. Happy anniversary, baby.” He plucked a white envelope off the nightstand and held it out for Jensen.

 

Jensen's mind raced. Concert tickets? A flight to Paris? He wasn’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t some kind of medical bill. Jensen took a big gulp of his coffee and tried to make sense of the little numbers and strange abbreviations.

 

“Are you sure this is the right one?” Jensen asked dubiously.

 

Jared just took the coffee cup out of his hand and pushed Jensen on his back. “Yeah. Just read it.”

 

While Jensen tried to figure it out, Jared kissed down his stomach, and crawled between his legs. “Just us now, baby.”

 

Finally, between Dr. Richings’ address and the billing information Jensen found the relevant lines. Test results. Test results for every STD in the book.

 

“Seriously?” he asked, but Jared had already pulled his briefs down, pushed his legs apart and licked between his cheeks.

 

“Been waiting for this,” he rasped out and continued to lick Jensen open.

 

Jensen let out an incredulous laugh. “You had Doctor Richings come in for your yearly check-up so he could test us? This is your idea of an anniversary present?”

 

Jared answered by pushing two slick fingers into Jensen. “Well, it’s something for both of us. I’d say this is a good thing.” He gave Jensen an impish smile.

 

And really, Jensen would be annoyed, except for how Jared’s long fingers were already hitting his prostate and Jensen would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been looking forward to this.

 

When Jared finally pushed inside, slow and deep, nothing between them, Jensen sucked in a deep breath. He hadn’t counted on it feeling so different, so much more intimate. Jared felt hotter inside of him, and Jensen was sure he was only imagining it, but it felt like he could suddenly feel every ridge and vein. Jared just kissed him, didn’t give him any room to pull back and they moved like that, close together, small motions, never separating too far.

 

Jensen gripped the hair in the back of Jared’s neck, pulled him in close, while Jared’s hands pinned his other hand to the mattress, fingers intertwining. Jensen didn’t know how long they moved like that, never looking away from each other until the pleasure got too intense and Jensen had to close his eyes. Only then did Jared pick up speed, fucking Jensen deep and hard until they both came. Jared fucked them through the aftershocks and Jensen could feel Jared’s come inside of him. He’d thought that part would be disgusting, but he found he didn’t mind, not at all.

 

They lay together, connected, and when Jared pulled out, Jensen rolled them around, resting his head on Jared’s chest. He felt Jared’s come slowly trickle out and yeah okay, this part he could probably do without.

 

Jared laughed when Jensen wiggled his hips and then he trailed one large hand down Jensen’s back, over his ass and rubbed a finger through the mess of lube and come between Jensen’s cheeks. Now this on the other hand…

 

“Don’t stop,” Jensen mumbled into Jared’s skin and pressed his ass into Jared’s hand.

 

“Kinky,” Jared chuckled, but he continued to softly finger Jensen until his dick hardened again.

 

“Like a high school kid,” Jensen said with a grin and Jared preened, before rolling Jensen around and sliding his dick between his cheeks.

 

“You love it.”

 

Jensen pushed back and didn’t protest.

 

 

 

  
  
  


Jensen finally got the La13 files. Morgan had hidden them in a book in Jensen’s favorite book store. It was an old copy of one of McCaffrey’s less popular  _ Pern _ books and somehow Morgan had ripped out a bunch of pages in the middle and replaced them with the FBI’s intel on the La13. Jensen wasn’t sure yet how to use it, and he was anxious about having the book in the house but so far, Jared had never picked up one of his books so he felt reasonably safe. He still put it in the back row of his bookshelf where the books were piling up three rows deep and he didn’t read it when Jared was around. So on this Friday afternoon, Jensen was reading the original trilogy but he put his book down when Jared walked in.

 

“Someone’s looking sharp,” Jensen said, looking Jared up and down.

 

Jared was wearing one of his fancier suits with a blue shirt, and his flashiest watch. Jensen, however, was lounging around the couch in his rattiest worn jeans, one of Jared’s old Stanford hoodies and enough dog hair on his legs to knot a little rug. Sadie was lying next to the couch on the floor, happy that Jensen was scratching her ears while Harley was playing blanket over Jensen's legs.

 

Jared grinned. “You look… comfy.”

 

Jensen gave him a lazy smile. “Harley is a great blanket, but if you wanna come over here I’m sure I can make some room for you.”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t go out covered in dog hair.”

 

“What’s the occasion?”

 

“I’m gonna have dinner with my hopefully new La13 friends.”

 

Jensen sat up straight. “Where?”

 

“Someplace downtown. Why?”

 

“Are you being safe?”

 

Jared laughed. “Sweetheart, it’s a public affair. Chad, his flavor of the week and Misha are going with me and my guests are bringing their girlfriends. Just a nice, getting to know each other dinner.”

 

Jensen narrowed his eyes. He’d never demanded an official place at Jared’s side, but they’d been dating for a few months now. He’d thought Jared had really started to care for him. And this was an important meet.

 

“So the gangbangers are bringing their girlfriends…. and you didn’t even think to ask me?”

 

Jared looked honestly surprised. “Really? You take every opportunity to tell me how much you dislike my work but you want to go on a meet and greet dinner with me?”

 

Jensen rubbed his neck. “Well, I’m still not a fan. But I don’t like you hiding me away. I mean, you’re not ashamed of me, are you? Of us?”

 

“Of course not,” Jared said soothingly, obviously expecting and trying to avoid another Campbell hissyfit. It was kind of nice to know Jensen had that kind of power with just a bitch face.

 

“So if you want to come, you can,” Jared continued with a smile.

 

“Looking like this?” Jensen asked, gesturing up and down his body.

 

“How about this,” Jared suggested. “You go shower, make yourself all pretty and meet us later at the Red Room?”

 

Jensen smiled. “Deal.”

 

After a short kiss on the head for Harley, a pat to Sadie’s ears and a longer kiss for Jensen, Jared left. It wasn’t surprising they weren’t going to talk shop at the restaurant. It was a place too easy to overhear or to bug. The loud, thumping club atmosphere was much better to talk business. Finally Jensen might get something substantial. And he really needed something, anything that would remind him that he was still an FBI agent with a mission. He whistled all the way into the shower, although he was unusually off-key.

 

 

 

  
  
  


The Red Room was packed. Loud salsa music was blasting through the room. Jensen had been waved through at the entrance and now he scanned the club for the elevated VIP lounges. He spotted Jared’s broad shoulders at the end of the room, up in the biggest lounge, bottom of the stairs protected by two guys in bad suits. Thank god Jared had started to demand a better dress code from his men after Jensen had dressed Clif.

 

When Jensen reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the VIP lounge the goons stepped in his way.

 

“Please, boys,” he said, “don’t make me look at your carnival costumes any longer than I have to. I’m with Jared.”

 

While the left goon stared angrily and reached for him, the other one checked over his shoulder where Jared was waving them off.

 

“Thank you,” Jensen said sarcastically and went up the stairs. He planted himself between Jared and Chad and introductions were made. Jared was meeting with three guys who looked like they had clout, accompanied by their arm candy and a few other guys, probably middle management, hanging around in the periphery.

 

The look Jared sent him told Jensen he’d picked the right outfit. He had opted for gray slacks and a matching vest over a simple white shirt. The suit was high quality and he knew Jared appreciated him ditching the jeans on more important occasions. Besides, Jensen looked good in it. Good enough to eat, judging by Jared’s expression.

 

The current topic of conversation was cigars and Jensen used it to scan the rest of the club. A few of Jared’s guys were spread out through the club. It might be a public outing, but it still could turn sour.

 

There were also a few guys out there who definitely belonged to the La13. Jensen was especially interested in two of them, who were watching a lone woman at the end of the bar. She looked extremely bored, sipping a drink from a high stemmed glass. She was beautiful, thick dark hair curling artfully around her shoulders and she carried herself with the posture of a woman accustomed to getting her way. The goons weren’t eyeing her as a prospective hook-up; they were watching out for her.

 

Jensen leaned in close to Chad. “Who’s she?”

 

“The sister of our new friend. Enrique says she likes to be a good luck charm for the business. Hey, you suddenly wanna change sides, Jensen?”

 

Jensen hit Chad over the head. “Pervert,” he said lovingly. Then he turned to Jared. “I’m gonna get myself a drink. At the bar.”

 

Jared raised his eyebrows, but then nodded. “Might be a good idea. I think we’re gonna take another stab at the business talks soon. First round was not as successful as I’d like.”

 

Jensen pressed a kiss to his cheek, winked at the guy opposite him who did not have his facial expression under control and stood up. He heard Jared ask if there was a problem in a hard tone and Enrique assuring him that no, there wasn’t. So Enrique did want them to get along, even if his lieutenant did not approve of Jared’s sexual orientation. Good to know. Even better was that the sister did not look like a woman who was satisfied with being a lucky charm.

  
  
  


“You look supremely bored,” Jensen said when he slid up next to her.

 

She looked at him disdainfully. “And you pointing that out makes it better how?”

 

“Well, it’s just a rare occurrence. Beautiful women usually don’t have time to be bored in a bar.”

 

Out of the corner of his eyes Jensen saw one of her protective detail approaching cautiously, looking for any threatening action.

 

“It is boring when you get hit on by stupid buffoons the whole time,” she said and looked at him meaningfully.

 

Jensen took it in stride. “Ah yes, they’re usually not that creative. And the selection in this place is rather dull.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Well, look at that table. One uglier than the other. Those are clearly stupid trust fund babies, he looks like he doesn’t know his ass from his face. That one over there seems acceptable—oh god no, my mistake. Look at these shoes. You can’t date a man with drab shoes, and crocodile skin is just screaming  _ I have to compensate for my small dick _ .”

 

She giggled before she could stop herself. “I assume you don’t count yourself in their category then.” She hesitated for a moment, then she waved the approaching goon away.

 

“Oh, honey, no,” Jensen said, laying it on thick. “Besides, I’m lucky, I already got me a man.”

 

“With good taste in shoes?” she teased.

 

“Most of the time. The rest, he thankfully listens to me.”

 

She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m Consuela,” she said.

 

Jensen smiled his most charming smile. “I know. I’m Jensen,” he took her hand and kissed it.

 

Her eyes were immediately guarded and she looked over to the VIP lounge. “So your man…”

 

“Yes,” he said but made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “But how about I do something about that boredom of yours and ask you for a dance?”

 

“A gringo like you?” she asked.

 

“Oh, trust me, honey, I can dance.”

 

She laughed again and stepped towards the dance floor. “Show me what you got.”

 

Two undercover stints in Miami and Jensen could dance salsa reasonably well. Consuela was a consummate dancer and he enjoyed moving to the rhythm of the music, whirling around a partner who knew what she was doing.

 

He looked up to Jared occasionally and sometimes he looked back, smiling hungrily.

 

“Your boyfriend really likes you, doesn’t he?” Consuela said.

 

Jensen smiled. “He does. We’re very happy.”

 

The song ended and Consuela nodded towards the bar. “Shall we get another drink?”

 

“After you.”

 

“It is rare, in our kind of life, to find true love,” Consuela said when they had new drinks in front of them.

 

“Yeah, I know. And when you have it, you can’t enjoy it because your boyfriend is too busy negotiating with the newcomers in town.”

 

Jensen was still smiling at her but he knew his eyes had turned hard. Consuela straightened up, eyeing Jensen warily.

 

“That’s too bad,” she said carefully.

 

Jensen nodded nonchalantly. “Getting cockblocked by drug smugglers is rather inconvenient.”

 

Consuela laughed, eyes twinkling. “I can only imagine. But why are you telling me? Negotiations are happening over there.”

 

Jensen looked up to the VIP lounge, where Jared was arguing, pinched look on his face. Enrique didn’t look much happier.

 

“Yeah, and they seem to be going so well. Listen, I know these types of guys and so do you. They’re gonna do their macho posturing, threaten each other and try to find out who’s got the bigger dick without measuring. Which, Jared would win, just saying.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

Jensen quirked his lips. “I’m sure you heard the stories. Boy king of Chicago and all that. It’s all true. So I’m sure that Jared will come out on top, but if he and your brother go to war, it’s going to seriously encroach on my quality time. Now you, you are a smart woman. Why are you down here and not up there? They could use a level head.”

 

Consuela snorted. “Like you said, macho posturing. They don’t think it’s the place for a woman.”

 

Jensen shook his head and signaled the bartender for two shots. They drank in silence.

 

“What do you suggest?” Consuela asked.

 

Jensen grinned. “I know Jared’s business, you know your brother’s. How about we see if we can figure this out before those two start shooting?”

 

“Why should I trust you?”

 

Jensen smiled as disarmingly as he could. “I’m a gay art thief. You’re a woman. They might not think we belong in their world, but we can still do anything just as well as any one of those ‘tough guys’.”

 

Consuela searched his face, then she shook her head and smiled. “Alright, let's go somewhere quiet.”

  
  
  


Jensen had to pull out all the stops, everything he knew about mob business and how the La13 operated. Consuela was sharp and level headed, thought ahead and anticipated Jensen’s moves. Jensen had occasionally played chess with Beaver; this wasn’t much different.

 

In the end, they came to an agreement Jensen thought Jared could live with. The business in San Francisco was a crucial point, but now that Daniel was permanently out of the picture, Jared would stop his expansion on the coast, as long as they played ball in Chicago. Since Jared was already looking in another direction, Jensen knew he wouldn’t mind giving up on San Francisco for now. Jensen thought it’d be a good deal for Jared and for the La13. If it worked out and led to permanently better business relations, it would be disastrous for the Feds, but that was a big fat maybe and not something Jensen could worry about now.

 

They borrowed the club manager’s office and made two nice print-outs, then toasted with champagne.

 

“They don’t really sign contracts you know,” Consuela told him with a smile.

 

“I know,” Jensen said, “but it has such a nice flair to it, doesn’t it? They could even sign it with blood if they want to be all manly and tough.”

 

Consuela laughed throatily and took his hand. “Come on. I can’t wait to see my brother’s face.”

  
  
  


Her brother’s face was first condescending, then disbelieving, and when she snatched the drink out of his hand and slammed the contract into his face, furious.

 

Jared reacted better, going from surprise straight to impressed amusement.

 

“You better take this seriously or you sleep on the couch,” Jensen whispered into his ear while sitting down. “I’m tired of ranking as number two behind your mob problems.”

 

Jared sighed, but started reading. His expression smoothed out immediately into his poker face and Jensen knew he’d done well. He picked up Jared’s glass and leaned back.

 

Enrique finally started reading as well, and when he was done he looked at Consuela with grudging respect. Then his eyes turned to Jensen.

 

“I am really curious, Jared, as to who your boyfriend is now.”

 

Jared smiled. “I told you, that’s Jensen.”

 

Enrique tilted his head. “And how did you two meet?”

 

“Oh, well, I was testing Jared’s security,” Jensen said. “It’s very good, but what can I say, I’m better.”

 

“Is that so?” Enrique asked.

 

Jensen grinned. “Oh, yes. And since you and Jared will be good friends now, I could consult for you on security issues any time.”

 

“Mine?” Enrique asked.

 

“I also do… off-site inspections.”

 

Enrique laughed, the same deep-throated sound his sister made. “I think I like you, Jensen.”

 

Jensen gave him a wide grin. “Liking all around, it’s a party. Now, are you guys going to play nice so we can order some more champagne?”

 

Jared and Enrique eyed each other, then Jared tilted his head expectantly and Enrique extended his hand. “I believe we have a deal, Mr. Padalecki.”

 

Jared took his hand and shook it. “Please, call me Jared. Shall we sign this excellent piece of paper?”

 

Enrique chuckled. “Why not?”

 

Chad got out the pen he always carried in case his phone died and he had to write down a woman’s number.

 

Enrique took it and signed on the dotted line.

 

Jensen shot Consuela look. “Close enough. and Consuela broke out laughing under the confused looks of the rest while Jared took the pen and added his signature to Enrique’s.

 

“I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”

 

Jensen leaned into Jared. “Now that business is done, are you gonna dance with me?”

 

Jared smiled indulgently. “I’m afraid I would just embarrass you.”

 

“I would be up for another dance,” Consuela offered. “Let’s celebrate.”

 

Jensen smiled at her and took her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

The rest of the night Jensen twirled Consuela over the dance floor under Jared’s watchful eyes. Jensen tried not to think too hard about the fact that he’d just helped Jared solidify his business. No, he had helped protect Chicago from a civil war. That was definitely the better angle.

  
  


 

 

 

  
  
  


During the drive back to the mansion, Jared was quiet. It made Jensen nervous. Jared had seemed happy, but what if he’d tipped his hand? Even an attentive thief wouldn’t know as much as Jensen did about La13’s business and after all this time, he still had to be careful. A guy like Jared didn’t get where he was without good instincts.

  
  
  
  


“Why did you do it?” Jared asked in the silence of the bedroom.

 

“What?” Jensen asked, knowing exactly what Jared meant.

 

“You know what I mean. You never get involved.” Jared said, face giving nothing away.

 

Jensen hesitated for a moment, but with the way things had been going lately, he thought maybe it was time to roll the dice. He knew Jared cared, he just didn’t know how much. But maybe it was time to show how much he cared. Go big or go home. He aimed for feigned nonchalance when he said, “You had problems, I was dancing, worked out good, didn’t it?”

 

“Yes, but why?”

 

Jensen sighed exasperatedly and let annoyance color his voice. “Seriously? Isn’t it obvious?”

 

Jared crossed his arms over his chest. “Not to me.”

 

Jensen turned around, hunching his shoulders. “Damn it, Jared, do I really have to say it?”

 

Behind him, there was only expectant silence.

 

Jensen counted to ten in his head and focused. Campbell would be outraged. Campbell would be mad at himself, at Jared, at his own stupidity. And yet Campbell always went for the thrill, the instant gratification, damn the risk. So Jensen spun around.

 

“Fine, because I care, okay? I’m in this for good, apparently. I mean, it’s been six months. I’m not going anywhere. And it’s not like I didn’t try to leave, because I did. God knows. I never wanted this. Getting involved with the mob, how stupid could I be? I’m a thief. I steal pretty things. I don’t get into gunfights and I sure as hell don’t negotiate with people who have a small army at their beck and call. Except apparently now I do.”

 

“Why?” Jared asked, face still impassive.

 

“God, you sound like a broken record. Let it go, Jared.”

 

Thankfully, Jared was nothing if not persistent. “Not until you tell me why.”

 

“Because I love you, you asshole!” Jensen exploded. For a moment, the force of the words took his breath away. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he felt his control slipping. But he couldn’t stop. “I love you, okay! And I don’t want to because it’s stupid and more dangerous than anything I’ve ever done and it can’t end well for me. Especially because you don’t feel the same.” Jensen tried to get his breathing under control. He looked at Jared, whose face still didn’t give anything away. Fuck.

 

Jensen took a deep breath, trying to find Campbell’s equilibrium. Except there wasn’t any. Campbell wouldn’t quit Jared, could never quit a man like him. A man he loved like this. So there was only one thing to say to explain him staying. 

 

Jensen inhaled and let the air out in a controlled exhale. “And that’s fine. You’ve never made me any promises. But I can’t change how I feel. So if I can help you, I will. It’s suicide, getting involved in your business, but fuck, I will.”

 

Suddenly Jared was standing right in front of him, cradling his face in his giant hands. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say this.”

 

“What?” Had it really worked?

 

“What do you think I’m doing here, Jensen? Do you think this is a game for me? I threw every rule out of the window to be with you.”

 

“You… what?” Thank fuck.

 

Jared was still looking at Jensen like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. “Jensen, I fell for you the first time I pulled my gun on you and you didn’t even flinch. It took me a while to realize but when I did, I didn’t want to say it because I was afraid you would run away.”

 

Jensen was speechless. This confession exceeded all his expectations. “Oh,” was all he managed eventually.

 

“Yes, oh,” Jared said with an indulgent smile, like he’d known this all along and was only waiting for Jensen to see the light. “Can we go to bed now?”

 

Jensen felt a stupid grin spread over his face. “Yes, please.”

  
  
  


Later in the darkness of their bedroom (yes  _ theirs _ ) dread spread through Jensen. In all the yelling, he hadn’t lied once. Hadn’t needed to access the Campbell persona. He was really in love with Jared. And there was no way out. No possibility for a happy ending. Jared would always be a criminal and Jensen would always be a federal agent.

 

There was no telling how long his assignment would last. If he brought them good intel, it could take a while. He knew of guys who had been undercover for three, four years. Pistone’s legendary assignment in New York had actually lasted six.

 

Jensen might have years left with Jared. For the first time in his life, Jensen’s path was clear and he dreaded it. But he couldn’t quit. He never quit. He couldn’t quit his assignment and he couldn’t quit Jared either. He knew he’d have to, eventually, but not yet. Not yet.

 

The only thing he could do now was enjoy the time he had left and try to make it out in one piece. He curled himself closer into Jared’s chest and breathed in his scent. He would just treat this as his next big adventure and not think about what was waiting for him at the end of the line. That was something he’d worry about another day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see all of the wonderful art on [Ibrahil](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibrahil/pseuds/Ibrahil)'s livejournal page [here](http://evian-fork.livejournal.com/153087.html). I didn't manage to include it all in the fic, but it's fabulous and you should go look and praise her!
> 
> Comments are love :)


	12. Announcement (Edits)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter, it is an announcement about the progress of editing this story and future updates.

**ETA: Updated as of 17/12/2017**

**I cannot believe I actually did it, but I have edited the entire verse, see explanations below. Thank you all for your patience and support, it means a lot!**

 

(I posted this on tumblr a few weeks ago, so if you've seen it there, you can skip this)

 

Since I’ve been terrible at updating the story and a few people were asking about it, I thought I’d make a little post about it. (A huge shout out and thank you to everyone still reading this story, I will be forever amazed by your patience and grateful for your support <3 This story wouldn't be continuing without all of you guys' feedback!!!!))

 

I am still working on it. There is actually, finally progress. If you want to skip all my rambling about why the fuck it took me so long, just know, there will be something new before the year is out and I’m also editing the old stuff and making it prettier. Hopefully. The new version will go live sometime in the next few weeks. If you want to know more, keep reading.

 

So, the longer the story continued, the more I was struggling with writing (there was also real life and other writing projects but also the muse just kinda stalled) and it took me a while to figure out why. There are two main reasons for it, one of which is that I didn't know Jared well enough. He’s mainly portrayed through Jensen’s eyes but he wanted a say in the last timestamp I finished and then just barged in and demanded I write his origin story (I’m gonna call it that because it’s how Jared becomes the criminal he is) and so I did. I really didn’t have a choice there but for this story to work Jared needs more room than I gave him so far.

The second reason why I struggled is that I wrote the first original story so long ago. A lot has changed since then, I have changed and I think I have evolved as a writer since then (at least I hope so). So  I thought I’d just do a little editing, fix some typos and some awkward phrases, because Underneath it All was my first story ever, started way back in 2013 when I was nothing but a wee lurker without anyone helping me fix my writing. (The people I call betas and hand-holders and alpha readers are the ones who make all of this possible in the first place.) In the editing process I realized I wanted to change more than just some typos and bad phrases and the whole thing kinda spun out of control. I also realized that I had been missing a part of Jensen's character that he didn't’ show until later in the timestamps and well. Anyway. Weeks later, I have added roughly 8k to the original story and it’s in the hands of my trusted betas to see if I actually made it better or just made a bigger mess. (Trust me, this story is a huge collaborative effort. It would not exist without all the people who’ve helped me through it in the past years.)

I’m planning on replacing the old fic with the edited version sometime during the next weekends (originally planned for Thanksgiving but I’m not sure I can make that deadline. Rl has very unexpectedly reared its head). So if you want to keep the original version (I think the new one will be better but that’s your choice) you should download a pdf now because come the beginning of December, I will update the fic. (I won’t make a new post because I would love to keep the old one as a place people can go back to and I’d hate to lose the comments too.)

The two major changes will be the names of the boys’ family (when I started out I used the real families’ names, however, I don’t feel comfortable with that anymore, especially because their families will play bigger roles) and I have expanded on Jensen’s relationship with his family that’s slightly different than what I originally wrote. I am kinda biting my nails with that because I don’t think everyone will like that but it was the only way that made sense to me. So there are some noticeable changes in the first two and the last chapter. The rest is small stuff, some typos, grammar and awkward phrasing.

I really sincerely think that this is the only way I can move forward with this story and I hope y’all will forgive me for taking so fucking long to get there in the first place. And wow, this post just got way too long but this story is my baby and it gives me a lot of feelings. And anxiety. Just… feelings! *flails*

 

Anyway, I will definitely post something new this year too, right now it’s a toss up between Jared’s origin story (this is a really bad working title…) and a more domestic little fic set later in their relationship. If my muse is super productive, maybe even both. A conclusion of the story is maybe in the cards for next year, though I gotta be honest, I’m kinda dragging my feet getting there cause it’s going to hurt. Like, getting to the end will be really fucking painful. But I started like three different timestamps and I really hope that once I edit everything I’ll be able to move forward more quickly.

 

If you have made it until here, have a giant smooch in thanks and if you have questions, my ask box on tumblr is always open!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nov, 23 2017.

**Author's Note:**

> Though this fic always worked for me as a stand alone with an open ending, I've grown fond of these characters and I want to continue exploring their lives. I'll slowly muddle my way through timestamps until one of them turns into the sequel that will maybe bring some kind of resolution to this.
> 
> You can find find me on tumblr [here](ashtray-thief.tumblr.com).


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